Jojo's Bizarre Adventure: Lost Heritage
by ShenValor
Summary: A 100 year-old grudge rises from the ocean to settle the score between him and the descendants of his fallen rival. The family who bears the star-like mark upon their backs. One young man's inescapable fate is bound by this family. For like them, Joaquín Trejo has that same birthmark. Join a new Jojo and his family on a quest through Egypt in this retelling of Stardust Crusaders.
1. Breathe

If you stumbled upon this story, then welcome, reader! What lies before you is a retelling of Hirohiko Araki's infamous third chapter of his famous series Jojo's Bizarre Adventure. All fans both old and new are welcome to enjoy this story as much as I enjoy writing it. Now, things might start off a bit slow at first, but it'll pick up. Some things to note about this story is that I primarily take from the manga, even going as far as to hand-translate the original dialogue. Some bits from the anime are added in order to pad out the story or to help explain certain events. Also, for those with keen eyes, you might notice some references to the light novel "Over Heaven". That novel holds canonicity in this work.

So, with all that said, happy reading, everyone!

If you have any reviews, thoughts, questions, criticisms, let me know! I'm open to answer anything!

Disclaimer: Jojo's Bizarre Adventure belongs to Hirohiko Araki, and not myself. Simple as that.

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JOJO'S BIZARRE ADVENTURE  
~LOST HERITAGE~

Ch. 1  
Breathe

NOVEMBER 3RD, 1988  
17:39  
ROCHDALE, QUEENS, NY

Back when she was little, Della Brown was always warned to never to go down any alleyway for any reason. It didn't matter what time of day it was or how safe it looked. There was always bound to be trouble. And she was the last person who wanted to get caught up in anything dangerous. "If you go down an alley, you can get mugged! Or worse!" Her mother, secretary to her district attorney father, may have sounded paranoid, but she only said this because she cared about her daughter's safety.

Those very words always rang in her head whenever she passed by an alley. Which happened five times out of the week whenever she walked to and from work. Della worked at the local antique store, which was several blocks from her apartment. And every time, before 7:30 AM and after 3:30 PM, she passed by several. She never took the time to count how many there were or curiously peek down them. There was no need to. It wasn't like she would one day feel compelled to enter one.

But the day she did happen to come sooner than she ever would have expected.

It was when she was walking home from work one cool fall evening. Out of some whim, she turned her head down an alley for no particular reason and stopped in her tracks. Gathered around in a circle was a crowd of excited, cheering young adults. They looked like punks, from what Della could make out, each wearing punkish clothes and sporting wild hairstyles. From within the hubbub, she could hear that distinct whooshing sound boxers made whenever they threw punches and the pounding of fists on flesh.

 _It's a fight_ , she realized. _Not some random fight over an argument, either. It's… organized._ How did Della know? Well, it came to her the moment the crowd went wild and someone began to count. Someone had been knocked down, and they only had ten seconds to stand back up to resume the fight. This wouldn't happen in any other fight unless money was on the line. And it seemed that whoever wasn't knocked down was the one people were betting on to win.

Della never liked fights. At least, participating in them. She didn't mind watching the occasional wrestling match on TV, but despite the pain and blood portrayed, it was all staged. These fights were _real_. The fighters weren't actors. And what they were doing was not at all legal. It filled Della with some odd thrill. _It's not every day you come across a real fight taking place. And who am I to pass up an opportunity like this?_

And so, for the first time in her life, Della ignored her mother's voice in her head.

The counting stopped at seven as she walked down the alley. Whoever fell had gotten back up, and the crazed cheering calmed to a mild buzz. Della pardoned several of the spectators as she squeezed her way through the tight ring. Looking over one of their shoulders, she managed to get a better look at the fighters. And as she took in their appearances, she also analyzed their fighting styles.

The first of these was a scrawny, pale man with one half of his head shaved and the other half covered in black, curly locks. He was wearing a tropical shirt, ratty sneakers, and khaki shorts, and Della could easily tell he was no real fighter. His punches were wild and uncoordinated. Not to mention weak, as they barely hurt his opponent. With his sloppy fighting and his rather nasty scowl, he looked like someone who couldn't back up his mouth. He was by no means the crowd favorite.

The second was a tall, lightly tan man with a slight muscular physique to him. He was dressed for the occasion, a black wife-beater, dark jeans, scuffed leather shoes, and fingerless gloves that sported golden studs on his knuckles and what looked like the Puerto Rican flag on the back. He looked more laid back than everyone else, and the way he fought was remarkable. Fluid and precise. His punches made their mark each time, and his dodging was done with relative ease. He was in his element. And as he fought, she noticed something she was certain the crowd had yet to realize.

This man was holding back.

As soon as she made this realization, the crowd favorite hooked the other across the jaw and knocked him down again. The crowd exploded with cheers, and Della couldn't help but cheer on as well. A man with a black and white bandanna ran into the circle and knelt beside the fallen fighter to check him before turning and shouting into the cacophony "TKO! JOAQUÍN IS THE WINNER!" And the crowd, sans Della, chanted his name as Joaquín waved happily to them. Another man stepped in to hand him what looked like his winnings.

Della might have just came in at the tail-end of the fight, but she felt rather impressed with what she experienced. When she imagined street fights like these, she envisioned a bloody, chaotic mess where everyone ended up involved. But this was far more organized than that. There was order. The crowd showed support to both parties, even if they favored one over the other. Even the opponents had respect for one another, evident by Joaquín helping his opponent to his feet and patting him on the back.

 _I ought to catch these fights more often. They're a lot more fun than I thought._ As soon as she thought this, the cheering stopped. And when she saw why, she gasped. The loser had brandished a knife, aiming it right at Joaquín. Things were about to take a serious and bloody turn, evident by the daggers in the madman's eyes. And yet, despite this, Joaquín looked composed. He was even smiling.

Taking some offense to this, the scrawny man yelled, "What's so funny, _maricón_?! Wipe that smirk off your face before I slice it off for you!" He was Spanish, and from what she was told by her mother, they seemed to have a rather proud and fiery nature to them. They would erupt at anything if it insulted them. Though she knew this wasn't completely true, given the Spanish people she had met in her life.

Joaquín seemed rather amused by the threat. He looked down at him and said, "I'm sorry, but this is actually pretty funny. Look, _enano_ , we spoke about this yesterday. You weren't gonna win this fight." He was Spanish too, though his accent was lighter than his attacker. "Look at you. You don't look strong. None of your blows hurt me. On top of that, your style's sloppy, like a bull with a red blindfold on. You never could fight properly."

"SHUT THE FUCK UP," shouted the other, clearly offended. A nerve had popped up on his temple. "What the fuck do you know?! Everyone I've fought lost to me! I never lose! I'm Juanito Alimaña! And you, you're just a _puta_ who likes showing off your powers each time you fight someone! How many of those have you won without sparking up your hands, eh?!"

 _Powers? Sparking hands? What's he talking about_? Della looked amongst the crowd, just to see if they heard properly. They must have, but she noticed that none of them were questioning what they heard. _Do these guys know something? He can't possibly be serious. Powers? That's only something people have in comics and movies. There's no way anyone can have special powers like these "sparking hands" he mentioned._

Her attention snapped back when she heard Joaquín say snarkily, "Fewer times than you pull a knife out in a fight, coward." And this set off Juanito. He screamed in fury and lunged straight at him, thrusting his knife to stab him. But it was met with a rather bored dodge. Even with a blade in hand, he was still reckless. None of his stabs connected, and it looked like he was getting increasingly furious each time. It actually was funny now that Joaquín mentioned it. But nothing was funny about Juanito's last thrust.

It looked like it would finally make its mark…

Only to miss. Or rather, be blocked. Joaquín had thrust his palm against his attacker's knife hand and pushed it away from him. With his other hand, he brought it down against his neck in a chop. The kind that could knock someone out if performed properly. But then Della noticed something bizarre. His entire hand glowed and sparked with a mysterious light the moment he did it. It was almost like electricity. And when it connected, it made Juanito collapse and drop his knife. He was knocked out.

 _He wasn't lying._

The silence in the crowd lasted for one second after the fact before it was shattered with a rather relieved cheer. Della sighed in relief herself, but rather than join in on the cheering, her mind wandered for a second to take in what she had seen. This man, Joaquín, has a special power. And when he used it, nobody reacted. Everyone acted normal. Have they seen this before? What exactly was it he used? Just who was this man? She just had to know.

With the fight over, everyone who had bet on Joaquín was given money, and they all went home. Except for Della, who stood behind to talk to this strange man. He was still there, and he was kneeling beside the fallen Juanito. It did not look as if he would be waking up any time soon.

"I told him this would happen," he said to nobody in particular. "I didn't wanna fight him. And this is why, because he would, and did, end up embarrassing himself. Poor Juanito." He stood up and looked at Della, continuing to speak without so much as a hello. "I mean, don't you agree? He doesn't look cut out for fighting, does he?"

Della almost felt off guard from the question. "Uh, no. Not really," she replied. "He's kind of shrimpy. Why does he think he could fight?"

"He's been like that since we were kids. He would always act tough, picking fights with everyone he meets. Especially me. I never understood why. Maybe he's got something to prove. Then again, everyone does. Just the way he goes about it is… irrational." He then realized that he was talking to a stranger and smiled nervously. "Oh. S-Sorry. Here I am rambling about him and I haven't even introduced myself. Name's Joaquín Trejo. What about you?"

"I'm Della Brown," she said with a smile.

"Della. Is it short for anything?"

"Adeline."

"Hm. I like it. But Della rolls off the tongue nicer. It fits better for someone like you, anyway"

"For someone like me," Della asked with mild offense. "What's that supposed to mean? Is it the way I look?" This confused her because she looked rather plain for someone her age. Her skin was pale. the only color being the freckles on her face. Her brown hair was a frizzy mop that she always pulled back into a long flowing tail behind her. And her eyes were wide and green. The rest of her was unimpressive, thin and short compared to who stood before her. Della was simply ordinary, so what did he mean?

"I don't know, to be honest." His smile was wide and rather goofy. "You just look like a Della to me. Or maybe it's because you're Italian."

Della looked at him with bemusement. "How did you know I was Italian?" When he pointed to his nose, which had a curve to his, she laughed. Hers had a slight bump along her bridge, but by no means did this make it look beaky. "Of course it's the nose! Everyone tells me that!"

"No offense, but I can usually tell what someone is based on their facial features." He looked back at Juanito and then back at her. "So, if you don't mind me asking, what made you stay behind? You a friend of his?"

She shook her head as she stuck her hands of her jeans. "I was kind of curious about something I saw."

"Was it the sparks? Let me guess, you're gonna say 'How did you know that was what I was gonna ask?', am I right?"

"How did you know that was what I was gonna ask?" And as soon as those words tumbled out, she gasped.

Joaquín just chuckled and leaned against the brick wall of the apartment building that made up part of the alley. "It's a bit obvious. Everyone who knows Joaquín Trejo knows or wants to know about my sparks. That's why some people come to my fights. They wanna see me use them. Though lately, I've been using them less often. I used to do it for show, but then I realized that they put me at an unfair advantage. I mean, my sparks are powerful enough to knock someone out in an instant. Like Juanito."

"Just what are they? Do you know?"

Joaquín looked at his hand. It began to spark again, this time for longer than a moment. He then said, "You know, I don't know what it is. I tried looking it up in the library, but I didn't get any results. When I was twelve, I got sick one day and my breathing got really funny. I went to the bathroom to try and throw up, but I couldn't. My _abuelita_ was freaking out and about to call the hospital. And as my breathing got crazier, this happened." he waves his hands, both consumed by the sparks.

"And it wasn't just my hands. It was my entire body. I felt like there was this heat in me that had nothing to do with being sick. We were both panicking because I had no idea what I had just done. Before I could even scream, it stopped. And that sickness just went away. Afterward, I tried to replicate what happened that day. When I did, I began to practice with it, using it on myself and others. Especially in combat. It's been ten years since then, and I have pretty good control over it."

His hands were still sparking. Della was shocked and impressed that something so incredible could exist. She almost felt as if she were dreaming, that this was impossible. But here it was, literally right in front of her. This Joaquín sure was an interesting fellow. Without thinking, Della asked him, "What would happen if I touch your hands?"

"I wouldn't if I were you." They immediately stopped sparking when he said that. "Yours would go numb for a few seconds. And that's just my power at its weakest. You see, my power is kind of like… controllable sunlight. I can use it in many ways, from giving someone a miniature heat stroke to causing blisters. But I can also use it to heal broken bones and even sickness."

"How do you do it?" Della was practically at the edge of her seat. "And have you ever met anyone else who can?"

"Boy, you're a curious girl," he chuckled. "Well, no. I've never seen anyone else but myself do it. Although someone I know told me about this kid from fifty years ago who did something similar. If that's true, I never met him. And as for how, well, there's only one word as to how I can do it:

"Breathe."

Joaquín got off the wall, relaxed his posture, and took in a deep, calm breath. Then he let out a long exhale. Longer than anyone ought to. And from this, sparks and light were already beginning to emanate from his body. It felt very warm. While his sparks grew more intense, they did not lash out at her. After about sixteen seconds, he stopped exhaling. The sparks faded away. Della could only gawk and mouth the word "Incredible." She could only imagine what it must feel like wielding such a power.

"Thank you," he said before wagging his finger. "It's all about the breathing. The better I can control my breathing, the better the sparks work. If I can't breathe, I can't use them. Simple as that." He began making his way past her before turning back and saying "Hey, I'm gonna be heading home. If you got nothing better to do, you wanna can come with me for some _sancocho_? My _abuelita_ makes it really good."

You don't often ask a stranger to come to your house when you just met them. And being a stranger, you don't often agree to do so. On any other day, Della would have said, "No, thank you." But after what she had just witnessed, she went against her better judgment and said, "Sure, I'll join you." And with that, she followed after Joaquín, walking down the rest of the alley and leaving behind Juanito Alimaña.

As they walked in silence, Della took the time to take in his appearance properly. Joaquín was indeed tall. Probably six inches taller than Della's 5'7". His tan body had small, barely visible scars, probably received from countless fights. The wild hair on his head was such a dark brown it might as well be black. And his eyes also held a curious spark, one that blazed a bright blue. What was it, though? Kindness? Rebellion? Whatever it was, they complemented his youthful, Spanish features.

He didn't look too out of the ordinary. If you were to look at him, you would think that he was your run-of-the-mill hoodlum. _But I know better than that, though,_ she thought. _There's always more to guys like these than just fighting and looks. This guy seems special. Hell, just walking beside him, he feels a lot different than he looks. He's not cocky or punkish. Maybe not too much... He actually feels… kind. Inviting. Trustworthy, even._ It was an odd charm that not many men inherently have. And Della couldn't help but admire him.

His home took several blocks more than her own home to reach. And it was situated on the fourth floor. His hand reached for the doorknob once they reached his home, but not without pausing first. Joaquín looked back at Della with an apologetic smile and whispered, "Be prepared. Knowing her, she might already know about the fight. Cover your ears if you need to."

She nodded and he opened the door. And almost immediately, he was rounded on loudly by a tiny lady with a cloud of white hair. She was speaking entirely in rapid Spanish and waving a wooden spoon at him. It was clear she was talking about the fight because she heard the name Juanito and the word " _telefono_ " in the same sentence. Someone called her and told her everything that happened, and she was none too pleased. Joaquín just stood there, not even phased by her tirade while Della did indeed cover her ears.

"And who is this girl you brought home," she finally said in English, aiming the spoon at her. " _¡¿Tu novia?! No habrá follando en e'ta casa, ¡¿entiendes?!_ "

Whatever she had said made Joaquín's cheek flush. " _E-Ella es mi amiga_ ," he replied with flustered indignation. " _¡Acabo de conocerla hoy! ¡¿De verdad crees que voy a follarla tan rápido?¡_ " He shook his head in exasperation and then turned to Della, giving her a sheepish smile. "Sorry about that. Um, Della, this is my grandmother Lupe. My _abuelita._ "

Della held out her hand and said, "A pleasure to meet you, ma'am." The elder Trejo gave her a momentary, shrewd look before she softened and shook it.

"I'm sorry you have to meet me like this. I told this one here to stop getting into fights and get a job. But he never listens. He's always coming home with cuts and bruises! One day he's going to end up dying in a fight against someone much stronger than him!"

Her grandson sighed and shook his head. "I've been fighting since I was six. I'm not gonna die, _Abuelita_. Say, is dinner almost done?" Lupe harrumphed and went back inside. "I'll take that as a yes. Come on, Della." And the two entered the home, which looked rather fitting for an old lady. There were old chairs, a small color TV, a dressed table and a cabinet filled with decorated china plates and ceramic roosters. All along the walls were beautiful paintings of countrysides. And the air was the smell of simmering soup. She felt quite welcome here.

When Della approached the kitchen, Lupe turned to her and asked, "Have you ever eaten _sancocho_?"

"No," she responded honestly. "What is it?"

"It's a stew. I make it with _cerdo, mazorca, platano-_ Oh, I'm sorry, you probably don't understand what I'm saying."

"I only understood plantains"

"Yes, as well as pork and corn. That's how I usually make mine. And it always comes out delicious. Isn't that right, Joaquín?"

" _Si, abuelita_ ," said Joaquín as he took a seat on the couch. "Hey Della, if you want to sit down, you're more than welcome to. Dinner might take a bit." And so she did, taking a rather comfortable seat across from Joaquín. "So, tell me a bit about yourself. And I might tell you a bit about me."

She felt taken off guard by his request. _What do I even tell him? Where do I even start? Geez, I'm not good at this._ "Er, what do you wanna know?"

"Just start with the basics, I guess. Birthday, what you and your parents do."

That was simple enough. "Well, you know my name. I was born 21 years ago on April 19th. Aries, I think. My mom and dad adopted me when I was little. They work together in law. Mom's both a lawyer and my dad's secretary and he's the local district attorney. He's worked on some high profile cases. I work over at the antique store close to my place: Adam's Apple Antiques."

"I've never been there, but I've passed the place a few times. If you don't mind, what happened to your real parents?" She responded with silence and not looking at him. _That's not something I wanna talk about._ Joaquín seemed to understand, as he nodded solemnly and said. "I'm sorry. Um, I don't have my mom and dad myself. My dad died last year in a bar fight. Happened when I turned 21, too."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," she said sincerely.

"It's okay. I mean, it's not, but I'm not letting it affect me. He told me before he was killed, 'Shoot for the stars. Don't let any meteors hold you back.' A weird phrase, I know. But what he meant was that no matter what, I shouldn't let things hold me back from achieving my goals. It wasn't until his funeral that I understood that… You know, growing up, he taught me everything I needed to know about fighting. And it's thanks to him I can earn money to help my _abuelita_."

"It's gotta be rough working on your own like that. Even if it's technically not work."

"I mean, I gotta do what I gotta do for someone with cancer."

There was silence, punctured only by the sounds of Lupe setting up bowls of stew. Della couldn't help but steal a glance at the little old lady, who looked back at her with a smile. She looked so strong and unafraid, despite suffering from a deadly disease that may one day kill her. Before she could apologize, Joaquín waved her off and said, "Don't be. We've been fighting this together for years now. _Abuelita_ is a force to be reckoned with. She'll never let a thing like cancer hold her back. Ain't that right, _Abuelita_?"

" _Si, mijo,_ " she said as she began setting the table with bowls and a large loaf of Spanish bread. "6 years. Can you believe it? I've been in and out of doctor's offices and nothing they did could help. We even tried that one treatment, chemo _o lo que sea_... And one doctor wanted me to smoke marijuana. I don't smoke! I can't handle it!"

"You could just cook it," suggested Della. And both Joaquín and Lupe gave her bewildered looks.

"Cook it?!"

"Yeah. I think there's a store that sells it as cooking oil and butter."

"But it's not medical."

"Er, no, but-"

" _Ah, pue…_ " She looked mildly grumpy now, but in an amusing way than serious. " You got my hopes up for nothing. Come sit, dinner's ready." Della was going to argue that she could be prescribed cannabis oil as a substitute, but she stayed silent as she joined the Trejo's at the table. It turned out Lupe was right about the _sancocho_. It was delicious. They all spent the next few minutes making small talk, talking about their day and how they met each other.

It was as they were about to finish when Della carefully said, "Say, Joaquín... I've been meaning to ask, but... you haven't said anything about your mother... Did something happen to her..?"

She immediately felt regret when she asked this question. Lupe shot a worried look at her grandson, who silently looked down at his stew. It was almost hard to pinpoint what emotion he was feeling. But she could tell that there was sadness in his now somewhat stoic expression. "I-I'm sorry... I shouldn't have asked that…"

But Joaquín raised his hand at her. "No, don't be. It's okay. I mean, I told you about Dad. May as well tell you about Mom." He took a deep breath and sighed, trying to keep his composure. _He really is a lot more emotional than I thought._ Della never would have taken Joaquín to be the kind of person to show such intimate emotions and be openly talking about such sensitive matters like this. He really was different than what people would normally think if they just looked at him

"My mom's name is Holly. And she and dad got into a massive argument before I was born. I never knew why, and neither does _A_ _buelita_. So because of that, she gave me up to him. She didn't want anything to do with dad, even if it meant me. I mean… I guess she did it so as to avoid not loving me cause of him. That's all I really know about her"

"Have you ever tried looking for her," asked Della gingerly.

"No. I mean, I want to, but… Do you know how awkward it would be to meet her after all this time? After twenty-two years? Where would I start? How can I feel towards her? And how would she feel towards me? Meeting her now would just open up Pandora's box for both of us. Out of respect, I chose not to look for her and just let her live whatever life she's made."

 _Wow. He's that selfless that he would sacrifice meeting his mother just so she could live a peaceful-_ Della's thoughts were interrupted when the clock in the kitchen chimed seven times. It was already seven o'clock. "Oh, shoot, I ought to get home," said Della, getting up and then shaking Lupe's hand. "Thank you for the wonderful dinner. It really was delicious."

" _Ay, gracias, cariña._ " And Della knew what she had said just by the warm smile she wore on her face. She must not get visitors often to compliment her cooking.

"And thanks for having me over, Joaquín. You're a really nice guy."

"I try my best," he said with a flattered smile. He stood up as well and led her to the door. "Say, tomorrow's Friday, you off?" He was met with a shake of her head. "Ah. I might stop by to say hi. I've got nothing planned. No fights or anything. I kinda wanna check out that store, see if maybe I can buy something for _Abuelita_."

Perhaps it was because Della did not have as many friends as she would have liked. Or perhaps it was because Joaquín seemed like such a relatable person. Whatever it was, Della felt rather anxious for their second meeting tomorrow. Perhaps they could learn more about each other during lunch. "That'd actually be pretty nice. Work's always slow, so I could use the company. I'll see you later, Joaquín."

"You too, Della." And as he turned to go back inside his home, Della noticed something rather peculiar about him. It was right there, between his left shoulder and the nape of his neck, exposed to her. Just looking at it sent an indescribable shiver down her spine. Maybe she would ask him about it tomorrow.

That smudge-like birthmark mark in the shape of a star.


	2. Doble Filo

Ch. 2  
Doble Filo

NOVEMBER 4TH, 1988  
12:14  
ROCHDALE, QUEENS, NY

Back when she was little, Della Brown had always wanted to become a writer. It was at the top of her own personal bucket list, right above marriage, learning martial arts, and traveling the world. Her goal in life was to put her name on the map as a best-selling fiction author whose work would be talked about for years to come. And she already had a pretty decent head-start. Della was already working on two stories, and she was confident that by the end of next year, she would have at least one complete work.

If only she could expand from her notes and drafts.

As it turned out, Della hadn't even begun writing any story. Most of her work had been written down in a notebook; simple notes here and there about plots and characters that she had yet to fully flesh out. There were several, carefully drawn sketches of the characters she wanted to use as protagonists for each one. One notebook had what looked like a beautiful blonde with an array of makeup and a deadly smile. The other had a blue humanoid with a cracked face and blades for arms.

She was certain that the stories about an assassin who could seamlessly transform into any woman she desired and a young boy turned bio-weapon escaping from his experimenters would catch the attention of readers, but she just had no idea how to properly convey what she wanted to write. She couldn't properly express her characters or carry a scene properly. The plots seemed to go nowhere. They lacked substance. And for several long weeks, she had been working hard to improve on this.

Which was why she had brought her work to… well, work. On her downtime, she would sit behind the counter of the antique store she worked in and write. Amongst the knick-knacks, paintings, figurines and other assorted items, she would find inspiration for her stories. Or at least try to. Writer's block was no fun. Especially since she had been stuck on the same synopsis of a chapter for her assassin story for weeks: a murdered tailor's son hiring the protagonist to save the city from a killer dominatrix.

"Damnit," cursed Della, leaning back in her chair and looking at the very rough draft of her story she was holding. Everything felt wrong with it. Too cliche. Too bland. And she didn't know what Irene, the main protagonist of this story, would do when she confronted the killer. Obviously, kill her in the end, but how would she do so? What crazy powers would she use against her? And when it was over, how would she end the chapter? Just thinking about all this made Della want to stab through the paper with her pencil and rip it up. She just felt too frustrated to think.

 _I need something,_ she thought as she put her work away, _or someone, to help take my mind off slow on business._

It was a quiet day for Della. The store was usually slow on business. Most people who would come in during the holidays were there to buy little inexpensive gifts for their family members. But today passed slower than usual. It was already noon and nobody had stopped by. Not even to browse the store's wares. And sadly, she didn't expect anyone to come, no matter how much she prayed. Things were only going to get more boring, and that made Della feel worse.

As if God decided to bless her with a miracle, the bell over the door rang. Her head shot up to see who came in, but all she saw was a mess of dark hair peeking inside. And then it turned, and Della immediately perked up. She recognized those blue eyes.

"Hey, there you are," greeted Joaquín as he walked in, wearing that same smile she remembered from the day prior. "It looked so empty in here. Where is everyone?

"Joaquín," said Della, now smiling at the sight of her new acquaintance. She stepped out from behind the counter to greet him. "You came on one of our slower days. We haven't had a customer all day. My boss is in the back taking a nap. Didn't get much sleep last night."

"I see. So what've you been up to since you've got no customers?"

"Writing," she looked away, her smile fading as she was reminded of her work. "I'm getting nowhere with it. I mean, I've been stuck with the same notes and the same synopsis, and it just doesn't grow from that." She saw him approach the desk and curiously open the notebook filled with said notes. His eyes darted almost faster than she could see, though she could tell they were filled with interest. When he was done and closed the book, she said hastily. "I-I mean, a lot of that stuff might change. It's not set in-"

"I love it," he interrupted. Della froze. She had never shown anyone her work, mainly out of fear of their opinions. But here was someone she had just met yesterday, a complete stranger, actually liking what she had currently. And these were just notes. "I may not look like it, but I like reading. And this looks like something I could read. You got a nice little story. And your character, Irene… Those are some awesome powers. I don't think Hollywood would have ever thought of something like this."

 _There's no way it could be that good_ , she thought to disbelief. _How many stories or movies have a powerful gangster corrupting the streets, only for someone to topple them? It's unoriginal. So how would it even be appealing? Is he just trying to make me feel better? Or does he really like it?_ Joaquín certainly was a weird man.

"I think it should be episodic, though," he turned to her, closing the notebook. "Like, it shouldn't end with just this Roba chick. You should have her be hired to kill _other_ gangsters and villains. I mean, this is an assassin, right? It only makes sense. Just going after one person the entire story would just make it feel uninteresting. And it wouldn't give your Irene any room to grow. Cause I'm sure you don't want her to just be some one-dimensional protagonist."

Apparently, he liked it. Della didn't know what to say. So she settled on a simple, "Thank you."

"No problem." Joaquín took a small look around the quiet store and then said, "So, what made you wanna work in a place like this."

Snapping out of her shock, Della answered. "Adam's an old family friend. Before this, I was working at a grocery store. But he came to my parents and offered me a job here. He was looking for a new clerk since the old one left. I said yes immediately. I mean, who _doesn't_ wanna work at a place like this? All these wonderful creations from years long forgotten given a second chance at life? It's really calming and beautiful, in a nostalgic and melancholic way."

"I feel you. It's like that whenever I see the paintings back home. They were all made by this guy named Cajiga. You saw them, right?" Of course she did. There were multiple paintings around the Trejo household of beautiful and vibrant countrysides. In almost every one of them, there was a tree whose leaves were dominated by red flowers. "That's part of why I came here, too. I was gonna check if you have one that _Abuelita_ doesn't have yet."

"I don't know if we have any, but feel free to look around." As Joaquín walked around the store and looked through the paintings, her thoughts wandered back to the night before. About how open he was and how big his heart really is. She never would have guessed when she first saw him in that alley. Sure, he looked and sort of acted cocky, but he was a man who wore his heart on his sleeve. He placed his trust in people he had never met, like her. And you rarely see that these days.

Deep down, this made Della trust him more.

"Thanks for having me over, by the way," said Della as she tore herself from her thoughts. Joaquín, in turn, tore himself from a painting of a cow and smiled over her way. "See anything you like?"

"Not yet," he declared, returning to his search. "I'm looking for something that doesn't have a _flamboyán in it._ "

"Flamboyant?" Did she hear right?

"Yeah, it's called a _flamboyán_ in Puerto Rico. It's those red-flowered trees in the paintings." That made sense now. "Beautiful trees. It's a shame there aren't any here in New York. The neighborhood would look more beautiful with a few growing around." He continued to look through the paintings before he exclaimed in joy. Sure enough, he had found what he was looking for; a painting of an old man with a guitar. There were no _flamboyán_ in it.

As he proceeded to take it, the bell rang again. Della turned to see who came in and had to stifle a gasp.

Walking in was a man in a long white overcoat, where he kept his hands hidden in. The man's pants and his sneakers matched, as did his wide-brimmed hat cocked to one side. He wore shades upon a handsome, beaky nose. His black hair was curly, and his mustache was thin. He looked around among the assortment of antiques (at least she assumed so, because his head didn't move). And then he smiled. A golden tooth shone in the dim of the store. Della knew who he was.

 _T-That's Peter_ , she thought fearfully. _Peter the Blade._

Peter was a notorious pimp many respected and feared all at once. He made a name of himself in the Lower East Side when he began taking over everyone else's prostitution rings. Almost every woman in Manhattan belonged to him. Those who opposed him was mysteriously found dead the next morning with no evidence that he had done anything. They knew he was at fault, but he went unquestioned and untried. With his strong ties to the police and the criminal underground as a whole, Peter was untouchable.

Della had only felt absolute fear once in her life. And now that she was facing death a second time, she felt it again, and it caused her to hide pitifully behind the register. Peter walked in with a swagger only people like him would have and approached Joaquín. The Spanish youth, who was carefully removing the painting from the wall, hadn't registered his entry until he turned around. And it became very obvious to her he did not know who he was, for he recklessly said to him, "Hey buddy. Looking for a bigger hat?"

The air grew uncomfortably quiet for a second. Della tried to catch his gaze, shaking her head frantically and hoping he would understand the danger they were in. She went unnoticed. In response to the quip, Peter chuckled. "No, my friend," Peter said in a silky, yet chilling voice. You could barely tell he was Spanish as well by how he sounded. "But I am looking for someone, and I require some assistance. Perhaps you can help me?

"Sure," said Joaquín, though he sounded rather cautious. He must have felt something wicked like she did.

"You see, friend, an acquaintance of mine came crying into my club about losing a fight."

"A fight?" Joaquín handed the painting to Della, who nervously rang the item. "I only fought three people yesterday, which one was yours?"

"Juanito Alimaña," Peter said without hesitation. And immediately, Joaquín's expression grew stony. "He said you humiliated him in combat and unceremoniously knocked him unconscious in front of thirty spectators.

"Thirty- _one_ ," corrected Joaquín, his voice now firm. "I guess he forgot to tell you how he pulled a knife on me after I helped him up. I did what I had to do. He was a sore loser and I taught him a lesson.

"So rather than taking his knife like a man, you chose to strike him. And with some bizarre power, from what he told me. Like a complete coward."

"How does that make me a coward," snarled Joaquín. "You can't vouch for him if you weren't there, you clueless bum!"

"You should really consider who it is you're talking to, boy. You have no idea who I am, or what I could do to you." Peter's tone didn't change.

"I don't give two shits if you're John Paul II, you came here and began interrogating me with false accusations! I'll talk to you however I want!"

At this point, Joaquín was right in his face, his eyes flaring into the obscured lens of Peter. And while Della's friend's face was now filled with annoyance, the intruder's was still calm and smiling. His tooth still shone brilliantly, brightening the antiques around them in a sickening glow. _Oh God, please don't let them fight in here,_ please _don't let them fight in here. Can't these guys take it outside?_

"Listen, you overgrown rat," Joaquín began, "I don't care who you are, but you're scaring the living daylights out of my friend here. Now if you don't want me to knock that ugly-ass tooth out of your stupid smirk, I suggest you turn around, make like Michael Jackson, and beat it! Because I won't hesitate to do what I did to Juanito to you!"

And then, something eerie happened. Something emerged from both men at the same time. Something that faded into existence, like ghost. Della wasn't sure whether to scream or run. Or both. But she was certain of one thing:

Whatever was going on, she wasn't supposed to see it.

Coiling around Peter was a black, thorny and overgrown flying fish. It looked monstrous with its sharp scales, its blade-like wing-shaped fins, and its jagged, smiling mouth filled with two rows of devilish teeth. One of them was gold. And its eyes were blacker than its scales, unblinking yet fixed upon Joaquín. It looked more like a shark than a fish, but above all else, it looked like it should not exist.

Appearing behind Joaquín was a taller man with a similar build as him, but his exposed upper torso was a pale gold. He had dark gold hair that seemed to transition down to his nose. He looked like a human boxer, with his golden pants, tapped limbs and fingerless gloves. But with the black, filmy goggles covering his blazing eyes, the sac-like ears, shiny body, and his three toes and four fingers, he looked rather frog-like. Della also noticed how there was a raised, star-shaped outline on its paler pecs, which was also upon his black deltoids, belt-buckle, and gloves.

No words were wasted. The fish darted through the air, chomping at Joaquín. But he fluidly dodged, the fish getting grabbed by the frogman instead. As he was about to crush it to death, he let go of it immediately. There was blood on both the man and Joaquín's hands. The shark-like skin had dug into his palm. Della assumed that whatever happened to this ghost happened to him. It was like some spiritual connection.

"What's wrong," laughed Peter. "Is his skin too sharp for you to handle?" The fish swam back to Pete and rested on his shoulder, allowing him to run a ringed hand along its back. He didn't bleed. "This is Doble Filo. The perfect killer. If I wanted anyone dead, my friend here can do it without getting my hands dirty. All it has to do is swim through whoever I want, and their insides will be sliced and diced. But, of course, they're left intact. They can never trace it back to me. And if they did, so what? They can never touch me."

The fish swam in the air again, and this time, it phased through the frogman's chest. Both Joaquín and the spirit doubled over in pain. And then again he was hurt when it flew right back. Peter wasn't lying. It really did hurt from the inside. But that didn't stop the spirit from grabbing ahold of the fish again before it returned to its master. He made no move to let go, even as his hand bled from it. As it squirmed and thrashed, Peter was rooted and struggled to move.

" _S-Sueltame_ ," he growled, the smile now replaced with a grimace. " _¡Sueltame ahora!_ _"_

"Nah," said J _o_ aquín. It was his turn to crack a grin. "Not yet. Not until you apologize to us."

" _¿Para qué?_ "

"You came in here to interrogate me under false claims and you scared my friend. This is a place of business. You had no right to waltz in here and make a scene. Now apologize."

Peter chuckled at first, but he was cut off when Doble Filo was squeezed in the hand. He was choking, desperately trying to reach up to his throat. But he couldn't move his arms. When it looked like he was being crushed harder, he let out a strangled, "Okay, okay, I'm sorry!"

Joaquín cupped his ear with an undamaged hand to him and teasingly said, " _¿Que?_ I'm sorry, you're gonna have to say it again. Slowly. Because depending on what you said, I just might kick your ass."

" _¡_ _D-Dije que lo siento!_ _¡Ahora, sueltame!_ "

It looked like Joaquín was taking his time considering what he wanted. Then, he smiled and said, "Sure thing. But you forgot to say please. So I guess this means you're getting that ass-kicking after all!" He let go of the fish. And upon doing so, the spirit unleashed a loud " _¡TOMA!_ " and punched the fish in the stomach. This caused Peter to collapsed to his knees, clutching his gut from the sudden punch.

But it didn't stop there. The frogman suddenly unleashed a barrage of punches. They were so fast that Della thought the fists were disembodied from his arms. It was like a hurricane's downpour mixed with the worst hailstorm ever. Each blow pummeled the fish, all while he yelled a rapid stream of " _¡TOMATOMATOMA!_ " And each strike caused Peter's body to jerk wherever they landed on the fish, blood bursting from his wounds and his mouth.

When the fish looked like a broken, crumpled mess with its fins cracked and its teeth missing, both Joaquín and the figure cried out " _¡TOMA E'TO_ _!_ " and delivered one last powerful blow. Doble Filo and Peter were sent flying through the door, sending it off its hinges. All three landed on the other side of the street. Della ran from her counter and saw that a crowd of people had moved out of the way when he crashed out. They still kept their distance from the twitching mess of broken limbs, knowing who he was.

 _Oh man… This is gonna come out of my paycheck…_

~+JO*JO+~

Clean up took roughly an hour. An ambulance came right away and took Peter on a stretcher. Policemen questioned Joaquín, naturally, and he told them the entire truth. Well, except for whatever that frog she saw being involved. He attributed the broken door to its age and his strength. Della told the same story, but stupidly added that he tried to knife him. She knew they would believe it because Peter almost always had his hands in his pocket. And one of them was holding a knife.

Turned out she was right. The one hand he didn't take out before had a knife in it.

Adam had slept through the brief confrontation and wasn't bothered by it at all. When the two had told him the story, he simply laughed it off. "Oh, that must have been quite a disappointment for him," he said as he looked at the doorless entrance. "Poor ol' fisherman. Thought he could catch a sardine and ended up hookin' a shark. Quite unlucky."

"We're lucky I was here to kick him out," said Joaquín with a smile, his hand now wrapped up and being nursed. "Sorry about the door. I promise I'll pay it off."

"Bah, no need to. I can easily replace it. I'm surprised you had the strength to do that."

"I know. It just came out of nowhere." He looked at Della, hoping she could join in on the subtle joke. But she couldn't find the energy to laugh. Her mind was running wild from the whole situation. One thought blared in her head. _Just who are you,_ _J_ _oaquín Trejo?_ She wanted to know what it was she saw. What was that spirit? How was he able to make it magically appear to kick ass. It was impossible, just like the sparks. And yet there they were an hour later after the fight.

When Adam returned to his office, Della turned her attention to Joaquín, who decided to take a seat in a wooden rocking chair to relax and nurse his wounded hand. The spirit had long since faded. Taking in a deep breath to compose herself, she said, "Okay, Joaquín. You have some explaining to do. What exactly did I just see? What was that… that _thing_ … that you both had."

"Don't be silly," he said nonchalantly. "You got one too."

"No, I don't."

"You don't?"

"No, I _don't_!" Della's face grew red as she almost yelled.

"So how could you see it, then," Joaquín asked in between his chuckling.

"I don't know!" She yelled this time.

Joaquín stood up and scratched his head. He clearly wasn't expecting her answer. "That's weird. Usually, nobody else could see him. I'm the only one that could. Oh, and anyone else who has something like him. Like Peter."

"But what is it," she asked.

"His name's Preciosa. He's called that cause he almost looks like my dad. It's the pet name my _abuelita_ gave him growing up."

"But what _is_ it, "Della repeated. Joaquín's response was just a shrug. She personally didn't know how to take this. She was torn between shock, fear, and admiration all at once. Della knew, after seeing his sparking hands the other day, that Joaquín wasn't an ordinary man. Today proved that even more when he just... summoned another body behind him and decimated a killer fish. It was strong. And while her heart trembled in fear of his strength, she also felt amazed that he could procure such a thing.

"All I know is that he appeared after my dad died." As if on cue, the figure known as Preciosa manifested before them, clear as day. His presence was still a shock to her. "It was the day after his funeral. I felt sick to my stomach from the grief, and I was running a mild fever. Plus I had a fight to go to that night, one I couldn't back down from. During that fight, my opponent mocked me so badly for my lack of motivation. Then he insulted my father. Before I knew it, Preciosa appeared and kicked his ass.

"I didn't know what happened, and neither did anyone else. They were scared as I was. So I just ran home. I went to the bathroom, looked in the mirror and when I saw him, I almost cried. I thought my dad came back. But it wasn't him. When I told my _abuelita_ all about it, she said he came back as a guardian angel. To protect me from danger. That's why she gave him that name. Because he was a precious part of our lives, and he would continue to live on in spirit.

"I got over my sickness that day. Since then, I started to study him. See what he could do. I trained day in and day out on my downtime, learning everything he could do. I learned he could punch really fast, can stick to walls, jump _extremely_ high, and he can see and hear things way better than I could. Oh, and apparently he's got this slime he can make on his skin that acts as a conductor to my sparks. It's really cool."

 _Whoa. That's actually pretty cool, now that he mentions it,_ she thought, bewildered by the spirit. With everything explained to her as it was, Della finally started to calm down. "And you really don't know what he is?"

"Sadly no. But I met others like him. Like this dog I met who could use sand. He's a feisty one, but I managed to make friends with him. Haven't seen him in months… But there are also dangerous ones. I can tell you right now that punk earlier was far from the first I've met in New York. And from all my encounters, I've learned that they all like to keep their powers a secret from one another. Probably to avoid letting others know about their weaknesses."

"So… when Peter told you how his worked…"

"He was probably doing it because he thought he could kill me," he said, crossing his arms. "Proved him wrong."

Della took a seat beside him in a dusty recliner and looked at her hands for a long while. _He's not the only one. There are others just like him. And not all of them are humans, either… Maybe one of them has an idea as to what these things truly are… and maybe… maybe they can tell me why I can see one so clearly… Do I really have one? It doesn't feel like it… I would have known._ It would be a lie to say it didn't trouble her.

Joaquín's voice, concerned, broke her thoughts. "Hey, you okay, Della? You look like something's bugging you."

"No, I'm not," she said with hesitation. "Just trying to take this all in. It's… kind of a bit of information overload."

"I hope you're not scared. Cause guess what. As long as I'm here, I promise they won't come after you." She looked up at him, and her heart gave a funny turn. He would do that for her? The question must have shown on her face, because he said, with a warm smile, "Yes. I will. I can guarantee it." Della didn't quite know what to say. She really felt thankful that she had a friend like Joaquín. Not many of her friends would selflessly do something like this for her. It made her rethink who she had as friends.

And boy, did that feel uncomfortable.

Preciosa soon faded back into Joaquín, who stretched and shook his sore hand. "Hey, sorry to cut this short, but I ought to get home. _Abuelita_ might be worried about me. I'll see you another time, okay?" Della nodded, going back to her thoughts. Looking back at earlier, she was partially reminded of the event that tore her life apart. In the midst of bloodshed and pain, she was saved by a childhood friend. A boy who she barely knew, yet came to trust. It was funny how fate worked.

Just like that boy, she felt completely safe around Joaquín. She believed him when he made that little promise. Joaquín did not seem like the type of person who would go back on his word. Della knew he would protect her, both he and Preciosa. They were both powerhouses with incredible, unimaginable powers. They would risk their lives to make sure she, or anyone else he knew, was safe.

She turned to him as he was putting money on the counter for his almost forgotten painting and said, "Hey, Joaquín?"

"What's up," he asked.

Della hesitated for a second, thinking of how to best phrase her next words, before she replied, "I think your grandmother was right in naming him that."

That got a smile from him. One that she knew would never be forgotten to her dying day.

~PETER THE BLADE: INCAPACITATED~

* * *

STAND TIME

STAND USER: PETER THE BLADE (ピーター・ザ・ブレイド)

STAND NAME: DOBLE FILO (両刃 (ダブル・フィロ))

POWER: D, SPEED: A, RANGE: C, DURABILITY: C, PRECISION: D, POTENTIAL: E

ABILITY: A Stand taking the form of a flying fish, it is able to swim through its prey, tearing apart insides with its razor-sharp fins and sharkskin-like hide. It leaves behind no evidence, leaving pathologists confused. Its skin prevents weaker Stands from grabbing it, and can easily cut apart hands with ease. Its only weakness (not exploited), is its sensitive eyes. While it cannot stand bright light, it can function at its peak in the dark. This makes the night the perfect opportunity for Peter to strike.


	3. Brujeria

Ch. 3  
Brujeria

NOVEMBER 17TH, 1988  
09:30  
ROCHDALE, QUEENS, NY

"Trejo residence, Joaquín spea-"

"YOU'RE FUCKING DEAD, TREJO!"

And thus began Joaquín's morning. He had just finished eating cereal when out of the blue, the phone rang. At first, he thought it would have been the landlord, or perhaps his friend Della, who he had offered his number too. But the voice on the other line was neither of them. It was Juanito Alimaña, of all people. He recognized his ear-ringing scream immediately. Any other day, he would have asked why he was calling, but given what he had found out yesterday, he knew exactly what it was that invoked his fury.

Peter the Blade, his friend, was found dead the night before.

The full details of his death were still a mystery, but according to the newspaper he had read, Peter and a mysterious woman were found dead on a Manhattan street corner. The lady had several fatal stab wounds while he was shot right in the head. The media figured someone else killed them that night, as there were no signs of a gun or a knife on either person. Later that morning, a Smith & Wesson revolver, .38 special, was being sold back to a man who sold that very gun to the murdered woman the night before.

It didn't take a genius to realize that they killed one another. Joaquín knew that nobody could have killed him without facing dire repercussions. But what made him curious about this murder was that Peter didn't use his spirit Doble Filo. He had bragged how his kills were clean and could never be traced back to him. A perfect kill. So why bother using his knife, which he always carried around? Perhaps, in this one instance, he wanted to personally kill someone without his fish-like spirit

It didn't matter now. Peter the Blade was dead, and now Joaquín had an angry punk on the other end of the line. And he knew why he was upset at him. He thought _he_ was the killer. The story about him beating Peter weeks ago had spread like wildfire. There was no doubt it reached him. Perhaps it was this news that twisted Juanito's mind into thinking that Joaquín would want to finish the job.

"I didn't kill him," he said calmly and without hesitation "Why on Earth would you even think that, anyway?"

"Because you kicked his ass," shouted Juanito. "He came to kill you and you beat him up! You let him live!"

"And what grounds is that for me to kill him?"

"Because he knows about your _thing_! Anyone who knows about that stuff becomes a target!"

Juanito was smarter than he let on. He indeed put himself at risk for letting someone with another power like his know about Preciosa and live. But that did not mean he would kill them for knowing about that. "That's not an excuse for me to hunt him down. I don't target people for knowing too much. Besides, why would I kill someone whose ass I just beat? That's adding insult to injury, and I don't play like that. You know this."

"BULLSHIT," shouted Juanito. "You humiliated me that one day! What's to stop you from killing my friend?! You wanna know what I had to do? You wanna know?! I had to buy his fucking casket and bury him _myself_ because of you! It's all _your_ fault! If I see you anywhere out here, I'm gonna fucking kill you, Trejo! You're dead!"

 _Jesus, he's so deep in denial that he can't even understand himself. I'd feel sorrier for him if he wasn't blaming me for this._

"Juanito, listen, I'm sorry. Okay? I'm sorry you gotta go through this. I know this Peter was your friend. But you gotta face the reality of his death and not take needless revenge against someone-" But he was interrupted by a string of loud, foul Spanish and the slamming of his phone, followed by a beeping. He hung up. And with a sigh, so did Joaquín, resigning himself to the impending madness that would be Thursday. He didn't want to go out knowing Juanito would be driving around with a gun trained on his head.

But with his grandmother bedridden and unable to cook, he had no choice.

Lupe Trejo was always a loud, passionate individual. Cancer never stopped her from playing dominoes with her friends or scolding Joaquín for getting into trouble. But the past few days brought a worrisome change. She was quiet, less active. And she was almost always tired. There was just no energy in her. He wanted to admit her to a hospital, but she was against it.

"What good can they do," she had told him last night. "I'm old and dying. They can't stop that. Besides, I want to spend what days I have left at home."

She was too sweet for her own good. And that broke his heart. Joaquín sighed again and went to wash some dishes, taking his time to think about how he should go about the day. He figured he could skip cooking this once and buy something from the _bodega_ to eat. _Arroz con gandules_ was something she would appreciate. As for the rest of the day, he figured he could arrange a few fights and perhaps find Della after work for some dinner.

Having finished, Joaquín made his way to his grandmother's room, where she laid awake in her bed. She looked rather comfortable in her nest of pillows, and when her grandson walked in, Lupe's face lit up.

"Sounds to me like you have a problem, _mijo_ ," she said. Her voice was low today. "I heard that screaming. Who's upset at you this time?"

"Juanito," answered Joaquín as he sat by her side at the edge of the bed. "He's upset that his friend got killed. That pimp that was on the news. And now he wants to take it out on me."

"And you're not worried?"

"No. _He_ should be, though."

"You're right, because he knows he'll get a _chancletta_ to the face." And they both laughed at the joke. Her laugh always filled him with happiness. And this was the first time in a while he had heard it, so it had quite the effect on him. It actually brought some tears to his eyes. When they both calmed down, she looked up at her grandson, smiling all the while, and said, "Joaquín, you know I'm going to die soon. I can already feel it."

His smile faltered and he nodded. "I know. Doesn't make things any easier on me. I mean, I can survive on my own, but... I'm gonna be all alone. I have no family to celebrate birthdays or holidays with once you go. What am I gonna do?"

"You will never be alone, _mijo_. I promise you. As for what you do, well, you live. And you follow your heart and your destiny."

This wasn't the first time Lupe spoke about destiny. She spoke about it when he was younger, how one day he would have to make a decision to follow it or not. It was his choice. He didn't understand what she meant as a little boy, but now that he was older and wiser, he knew. His destiny was how he would make his life. The decisions Joaquín would make from the moment she left this world would shape his path. Hopefully for the better.

"Now listen, Joaquín. There are a few things I need you to do after I pass. First…"

~+JO*JO+~

"And then she told me that I needed to go to Japan as my first step towards my destiny," said Joaquín to Della as he ate his Cuban.

It was dinner time, and the two were eating in a small local diner. He had tracked her down after work and invited her to eat. Before this, he had stopped at the _bodega_ for food and dropped it off for his grandmother. The two were discussing what Lupe's final wishes were, which weren't difficult to follow: a burial, her assets sold, her bank account's money transferred to his, and her "prized" ceramic chickens to be smashed (gifts from her mother, which she loathed).

But her weirdest wish was what Joaquín just told Della: going to Japan. His grandmother was very specific about it, too. She told him to go to Narita, which was in the Chiba prefecture. What exactly was waiting for him there? And how was it tied to his "destiny"? He wouldn't ask her. He figured that he would have to find this one out on his own when the time unfortunately came.

"That all sounds weird," said Della after swallowing a good bite of her Reuben. "So are you gonna go?"

"Probably not permanently. But to be fair, I've always wanted to go." Joaquín smiled halfheartedly. "I even took some classes on the Japanese language, just so I could prepare myself one day. Knowing Spanish helped, too, given that the two languages share the same vowel sounds. One of my friends, Hannah, told me all about her summer there once. She went to the countryside and got to see so many beautiful sights. Plus she went to a few cities. I heard they put New York to shame."

"Where would you go visit first, Jojo?"

"I think I'll visit To-" he paused, now registering the nickname. "Huh? Jojo?"

"Yeah, Jojo," Della repeated. "Cause of your name. Joaquín Trejo. You got two 'jo's' in your name. That makes you a Jojo."

He took a second to think before he said, "Wouldn't it be Hoho? Since it's not a hard j?"

"Wha- No, that's dumb. Who would call you Hoho?" She was chuckling in between a bite. "That's the name of a snack, not something you'd call yourself." She then pointed her sandwich at him and smiled. "I'm gonna call you Jojo from now on. Got it?"

Joaquín could only look on meekly at the end of her dinner and nod. _And I thought I was weird. Guess I was wrong._ But as he continued eating, he mulled the name over in his head and rolled it off his tongue. _Jojo… Jojo… That actually sounds pretty nice. I guess I could get used to it._ "Okay, you win. I'll go by-"

He stopped again when he began to notice that the diner's patrons were moving away from their table in a panic. Their wide eyes were locked on their window. Joaquín looked and his eyes immediately widened. Standing outside of a beaten white corvette was a scrawny and pale man with half of his curly hair shaved off. It was Juanito. And he was taking aim at him with a gun.

He was about to keep his word.

"MOVE!" Joaquín pushed Della down and summoned Preciosa just as Juanito fired. The bullet broke through the window and flew at his head, but was stopped by his spirit catching it between his fingers. That was when the patrons all began to scream and run for cover. _This idiot could have done this without a crowd of innocents_ , he angrily thought, as he had Preciosa crush the bullet between his fingertips. And that was when things got worse.

Black smoke burst from the shell and immediately enveloped Preciosa's arm. All of a sudden, Joaquín felt a massive itching on his right arm, which broke out in horrible blisters. He couldn't help but scratch, which was making it worse. To his and everyone else's horror, Juanito shot several times into the crowd. The bullets burst when they got near them, covering them all in clouds of itchiness. Their skin began to break out as well, and the panic grew.

 _This isn't some normal cloud. Just what's it made of?_ It was now that he used Preciosa's eyes to get a better look at what was attacking them. His eyes were special in that they can register things like a microscope, able to zoom in and see things in fuller detail. Even from a distance. It was through those eyes that he saw a colony of mite-like creatures making up the dense cloud. They looked like black tufts of hair with mechanical mosquito-like heads and twig-like appendages sticking out from it.

Joaquín looked over at Juanito, who laughed as he stepped in through the broken window and crushed glass beneath his feet. "T-That's your spirit, isn't it," he said through gritted teeth. "Those little b-bugs?"

"Ah, you can see what they look like," said Juanito, almost impressed. "Those are some sharp eyes your spirit has. Peter told me about how strong he is. Just looking at him, I can tell. He's like an Olympian or something. How strong do _you_ think he is, Joaquín?"

"S-Strong enough to keep you in the hospital for l-life if I wanted to," growled Joaquín, holding onto his aching arms. The itch had now spread. He couldn't scratch anymore. If the patrons' faces were any indication, he would start bleeding like crazy if he continued. And he wanted to so badly. But if he did, he would be too focused on scratching than kicking his ass. "What about y-you? How l-long have you had t-these things, J-Juanito?"

"Since I was born, I've always had Brujeria by my side. Anyone I wanted to suffer, I made them suffer. Like you. I'm gonna make you suffer." His smile dropped. Juanito's gaze hardened into a murderous glare. The itchy feeling grew too powerful to ignore, and Joaquín couldn't take it anymore. He dropped to his knees and scratched his arms. The awful sensation soon spread to his chest. Nothing he did was making it go away. The pain of the itch was too much. He was going to bleed.

Horribly.

"This is the effect of Brujeria. My little friends cover whatever they want, and their bite leaves everyone with the worst itch in the world. Worse than chicken pox! You know how many people have scratched themselves to death just because of me? A lot! You'll scratch yourself to the bone! And even when all your nerves are gone and you can't feel a thing, you'll feel compelled to scratch even more until your nails dig right through! The best part about it all? No law can stop me! Because-"

"Because you have a c-cousin in the police force." Juanito was a scumbag, and he knew this for quite some time. Every chance he got, he would harp about how he has a cousin as a police officer. It wasn't hot air, either. Every last crime he committed would be acquitted thanks to that one connection. It bugged Joaquín to no end. Of course, that didn't stop him from beating him up. And he would do it now were he not occupied with the itch.

He had to figure out a way to get rid of Brujeria. His choices were rather limited given his situation. _Punch them? What's to punch? Bug spray? Like that would work. Punch Juanito? Not until_ _I get_ _rid of these bugs. So what about… temperature?_ There was a thought. The cold, autumn air didn't seem to be doing much, considering they were covered in fur. So perhaps heat might have the desired effect of incapacitating them.

And with that thought alone, the solution came to Joaquín. His sparks. They had the same power as the sun, enough to heal and harm. And Preciosa could utilize it the same way he could, but even better. Because of his frog-like nature, he was able to secrete an oily substance on his skin. Joaquín learned that the oil, which he could throw for several purposes, is an excellent conductor for his power. It was a silly solution, but at this point, what other choices did he have?

Without a second thought, he relaxed his breathing, ignoring the dreaded itch. Preciosa mimicked him, and both their bodies began to glow with the sparks. Shining brighter were their arms and chests. The cloud of mites that enveloped them began to scream in shrill voices as they dissipated. The itchiness was gone.

"W-What are you doing," shouted Juanito, his hands bubbling up. He was ignored as Preciosa spun on the spot and flung his arm to the crowd. A wave of his blazing oil flew off of it and struck several people in the face. These clouds began to scream as well, just as those hit let out a shriek over feeling slime on them before passing out. He knew it was better than to just continue itching like that.

All the while, Juanito was breaking out in terrible blisters all over his exposed skin. Joaquín figured it was because he was hurting Brujeria with his sparks. Whatever happened to these spirits happened to whoever controlled them. But because they were small and numerous, the injuries were only minor, even if it was mostly blisters.

" _Maltida sea_ ," growled Juanito as he trembled in fury. "How could you do this to me, you _maricón_?!"

"How," asked Joaquín as he got back on his feet. "Because I was thinking rationally, unlike you. Now look, _enano_ , you wanna keep fighting me? Then let's take it to the streets. Don't come hunting for me in a public place. That looks bad on you, and I doubt your officer cousin would bail you out for hurting normal civilians who have nothing to do with your misguided revenge."

"SHUT UP!" Juanito aimed his gun right at Joaquín's head, getting closer until the barrel was touching his forehead. "I do what I want! I run these streets! If I wanna kill you in a diner, I'll do it! You can't tell me what I can and can't do, Joaquín Trejo! Not you, not my cousin, nobody! Got it?!"

And before anyone could say anything, a salt shaker flew at Juanito's forehead, causing him to yelp and clutch his blistered face. It wasn't Preciosa who threw it, but Della, who had been ignored this entire time. The look on her face when he turned to see her was a priceless expression of someone who wasn't expecting to hit their target.

"G-Got you, sucker," she said with a nervous chuckle.

 _I'll have to thank her for that later._ But right then, Joaquín took his opportunity and ripped the gun away from his distracted attacker with his spirit, crushing it in his hands. No clouds burst out, meaning he was probably out of ammunition or was too pained to manifest Brujeria. _Good thing, really. I don't wanna have to repeat all that again._

Now Juanito was livid. Rather than take his frustrations out on Joaquín, he turned to Della, shouted " _¡_ _PUTA MADRE_ _!_ _¡TU MALDITA PUTA! ¡TE RASGARÉ MIEMBRO DEL MIEMBRO!_ ," and lunged.

That was a mistake, one Joaquín was going to make him regret deeply. Without hesitating, Preciosa stopped him blind in his tracks with a hook to the face. "You disgust me, Juanito," said Joaquín in a dangerous tone. "Your rage has blinded you. The death of Peter the Blade has driven you so mad that not only do you want to kill someone who wasn't involved in his death, but innocent civilians. They had nothing to do with it, so why make them suffer? Can't take closure on someone who's already dead?

"No, of course not. You had to take your frustration out on the next best thing: me. The one who 'humiliated' him. And look where that led you: a fist in your face and one very, _very_ angry New Yorker to deal with." He leaned up to his ear and whispered, "You fucked up. You were about to attack my friend. And if you know me well, you ought to know that going after my friends is a big no in my book. So you know what's gonna happen? I'm not gonna kick your ass.

"I'm going to _really_ kick your ass."

Juanito didn't get any chance to respond to that before he was immediately pelted with a hailstorm of punches. " _TOMATOMATOMA_ ," cried Preciosa as his fists left dents all over the scrawny thug's body. With one resounding " _¡_ _TOMA!_ ", he was punched straight through the broken window. Joaquín hoped that he would at least end up on the other side of the road like Peter did that one day, but a car had zoomed by and WHAM! Juanito's body was struck mid-flight and was sent rocketing several feet away.

 _Well, if those punches weren't gonna put him in the hospital, then that car certainly is_ , he thought sheepishly as he looked back into the diner.

Those who weren't unconscious were giving him a frightened and confused look. They had every right to since their dinner was interrupted by a madman and invisible bugs. All he could really say to them was, "Sorry for the mess. Those guys will be okay. Just make sure they don't scratch themselves again for a bit," before leaving some money on his table for both food and damages. Joaquín then turned to Della and asked, "How're you holding up, Della? You hurt?"

She was completely unharmed. In fact, she didn't look too fazed over the whole ordeal. But he was certain that she was still not yet used to her friend having such a bizarre power. He could tell by the odd look she was giving him. It was half admiration and half… trepidation? Was that the right word?

"I'm okay," Della said after a moment with a smile. "How about you? You just… blew up."

"Yeah, I'm okay." Joaquín looked down at his arms. They were red, but not at all bad looking. If anything, it looked as if he got a sunburn. "I just don't like the fact that that idiot tried to hurt you."

"I'm okay," she repeated reassuringly.

"I know. I just don't like seeing my friends be put in danger, you know?" He looked back outside to see the man who hit Juanito bawling his eyes out over what he did. "We should probably go. Wanna do this again sometime?"

"Maybe on my day off," said Della with a smile. "Just make sure nobody's out for your blood again."

They were both about to leave through the window when one of the patrons called out, "Excuse me, young man?" Joaquín turned back around to see an aged black man in a suit looking curiously at him. "That thing you just did. Those sparks… Where did you learn to do that?"

"Um, I've always known," answered Joaquín. "Ever since I was born. Why do you ask? Have you met anyone else-

"Hey, I know you," exclaimed Della. "You're Smokey Brown! You're the mayor of New York City!" The man smiled, and it was one Joaquín remembered. How could he not have recognized the man whose smile dominated the newspapers every month until now? Smokey's campaign was a similar one to the one he ran back in his home state of Georgia, winning the hearts of his people with plans to shape the city for the better. He had won by an incredible margin. And here he was, in a diner with him and Della!

Smokey scrunched his face in mock anger. "Aw, darn. And here I thought I wouldn't be recognized!"

"I probably wouldn't have if Della hadn't mentioned your name." He then continued. "I was gonna ask if you've ever met anyone else who could use those sparks."

"I do, as a matter of fact!" He stood up and beamed up at him, a bizarre spark of nostalgia in the mayor's eyes. "Fifty years ago, I bumped into a young man who could do _exactly_ what you did. He's been my friend since then."

It was as if the flames of excitement ignited in his heart. He had heard about this youth from many people who had seen it. They didn't know him personally, so all he had heard were stories. And yet here was a man who _did_ know him personally. Joaquín couldn't help but stutter as he asked, "C-Can you tell me about him? I-I wanna know who this guy is! I-If you don't mind."

"Not at all, but let's get out of here. I don't think this is the appropriate place to discuss this given what happened." The three then exited the diner, the youths using the broken window as their exit. They moved past the accident and past Juanito, who was twitching and moaning in pain on the street. "I know about those sparks. But what was that other thing you did? That made that kid jerk around like he got punched?"

"It's kind of hard to explain. Normal people can't see him, but I have a spirit with me. But he's not important right now. How do you know this guy?"

The man looked up the street, his smile filled with fondness. "It was… let's see... The autumn of '38, If I'm remembering right. I wasn't a good kid back then. I was a petty thief, and on that fateful day, I stole this man's wallet. The police caught me and then, he saved me from them. He shot the cap off a Coke bottle and broke one of their fingers, and he used those sparks to make it happen. He called it _hamon_."

" _¿_ _Jamón?_ " _Did I just hear that right?_ "What does ham got to do with it?"

"He told me it was Japanese."

Joaquín racked his brain for a second, trying to recall that word. When he remembered what it meant, he replied, "Ripple... That makes sense." And it certainly did Every time he made those sparks, it felt as if energy was just rippling through his body like the heatwaves of the sun. "I'm sorry, can you continue?"

Smokey did so. "Certainly. Well, you can imagine my surprise as an African American thief in the 30s being saved by an unprejudiced white man. He and I became quick friends. He even paid for my dinner with him and his grandmother. But unfortunately, being a friend of his was a bit of a hazard. Before I knew it, I had become involved with Nazis, vampires and immortal warriors."

The youths stopped in their tracks. "Did you just say vampires," asked Della with raised eyebrows.

"I did," answered Smokey.

"But... they don't exist... Do they?"

"They're as real as the _hamon_. And it was the only way to get rid of them. But they're all gone now. You shouldn't have to worry about them anymore." It was hard to tell if he was serious or not, but Joaquín took his word for it. Smokey took a second to glance at his watch. "It's pretty late. I have to get back to the office. If I bump into him, I'll let him know about you. Well, it's been a pleasure to meet you, mister…"

"Joaquín Trejo," he replied, the two shaking hands. "And it's been a real pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Mayor." The mayor nodded and went along his way. And before he was out of sight, Joaquín suddenly remembered that he didn't ask about this so-called _hamon_ user's name. "Hey, Mr. Mayor! What was his name? You didn't say!"

Smokey turned back to him and said loud enough to hear, "It's Joseph Joestar!"

"I've heard of that name before," said Della as the Mayor left. "The Joestar Real-Estate Company. It's one of the most successful in New York. I think that might be the founder he's talking about." She turned to Joaquín, smiling that sweet smile she usually wore around him. "Wouldn't that be something? To meet with that man and learn more about that _hamon_?"

He nodded, continuing to walk home with his friend. After having heard this story, his excitement grew even more. The man who had the same power as him, the so-called _hamon_ , was real. Joseph Joestar. When he closed his eyes, he imagined someone who looked just like him, shaking a bottle of Coca-Cola and shooting the cap right off with his sparks of his own. He wanted to meet this man, just so he could learn more about him and the wondrous power they both shared.

But where would he start looking for him? Through the mayor, who was busy running a city? He would probably have no time to look for him, and Joseph would be busy to meet up with him out of the blue. Plus, he would have to be an old man by now. He had to be with fifty years added to his age since the 1930s. For all he knew, he probably couldn't use those sparks as well as he did in his youth, if at all. It was at least worth a try to seek the man out, if he wasn't busy, that is.

As he thought more of this mysterious man, he suddenly realized something about his name.

 _He's a Jojo,_ he thought with a smile. _Just like me.._.

~JUANITO ALIMAÑA: RETIRED~

* * *

STAND TIME

STAND USER: JUANITO ALIMAÑA (フアニート・アリマニャ)

STAND NAME: BRUJERIA (魔術 (ブルへリア))

POWER: E, SPEED: C, RANGE: D, DURABILITY: E, PRECISION: C, POTENTIAL: B

ABILITY: A mass-colony Stand visible as a cloud of mites to even non-Stand users. They can only be seen properly under a microscope. Once the mites find their target, they use their long proboscises to "bite" and inject a chemical that causes extreme itching into their prey's skin. The purpose of this Stand is to spread an uncontrollable disease throughout their victim's bodies, forcing them to scratch until they die. They cannot be removed by anything except heat, which can disintegrate them if the temperature is high enough.


	4. Holding On To Yesterday

Ch. 4  
Holding On To Yesterday

NOVEMBER 20TH, 1988  
06:05  
ROCHDALE, QUEENS, NY

 _There was fire, a massive fire that ceaselessly consumed what looked like an engine room. The machine amongst the flames was failing, broken by means unknown to him. Smoke and death hung in the air. So much death. And so much pain… He felt like he was dying, his neck and hands feeling as if something hot had stabbed right through. Shards of metal were buried in his back. He could barely breathe or move without wincing in pain or coughing up blood._

 _Above him, he noticed an unsightly object hanging from the ceiling. Something with blonde hair that moved with a life of its own. It hung from a pipe along the ceiling, its amber eyes staring at him with cold determination. It was a head, severed at the base of its neck. And from its bloody stump were long, sickly veins that writhed excitedly around him like a hungry squid. They shot straight at him, wrapping around his neck and cutting off what little air he could breathe._

 _The head's hair let go, and an explosion propelled him towards him. He could see every detail of his pale, inhuman face illuminated by the flames around, accentuated by his fanged smile. And as the head rocketed towards him, he let out a triumphant cry._

" _Now come, Jojo! And embrace your fate as my eternal body!"_

And then the dream ended. Joaquín shot up in his bed, drenched in sweat and panting. He looked around, expecting to see the flames again, to hear the voice of that head. But there was none of that. All he could see was darkness, only a dim street light shining inside from the window beside him. There was silence, only punctuated by cars below outside. It took him a minute to realize he was in his room, and that it wasn't even dawn yet. Joaquín plopped back onto his pillow and breathed a sigh of frustration.

"That dream again," he muttered to himself.

This, unfortunately, was not the first time he had this dream. Not even the second or third time. For four years now, Joaquín Trejo had been plagued by the same three dreams. They were never the same, but he took notice that they all had similar reoccurring themes. Raging fire, a death-filled atmosphere, pain, and a man with wild hair and a cold, unforgiving face. He either had a body or didn't, and regardless of his state, he always ended his dreams with a predatory lunge.

 _What does this mean_ , he would ask himself as he did now. _Who is this man? And why is he always attacking me?_ He couldn't think of a proper answer for all this. Were these dreams premonitions of an impending future, or perhaps he had been looking into someone else's life? When he told his grandmother, she assumed that it was the work of _el cuco_. Admittedly, it made him laugh, but given what he could do himself, she might have been on to something.

 _Maybe there_ is _a boogeyman out there forcing me to have these dreams…_

Joaquín sighed again and moved to sit at the edge of his bed. _No point in trying to get my sleep back_ , he thought. So there he sat for the next few minutes, wracking his brain as to what he should do for today. He figured he could talk to one of the promoters to schedule a fight. Ever since he defeated Juanito in public, everyone had been wanting a piece of him, which raised his spirits. He loved a good fight, and he hoped that these people could give him a challenge. Maybe he could invite Della to watch him.

And just like that, his thoughts on fighting came to a full stop in favor for her. Della. The friend he had met some weeks ago. Her presence, her very name, sent an odd, yet pleasant shiver down his spine. She was a very nice girl to be around. She didn't judge him for who he was or what he did for a living, plus she showed interest in his incredible abilities. Della was someone he could sit down with and feel comfortable to talk about anything. It was as if they had been friends for a long time.

His other friends, nice as they were, couldn't exactly compare to her. Not even the other girls he used to associate with. They somehow didn't hold a candle to this strange girl who had recently entered his life, who he went out of his way to hang out with every chance he got and even stand up for her. And with that thought, Joaquín knew exactly what he was going to do today. No fights. No bullshit. Just spending time with her.

Joaquín rubbed his eyes and got dressed in his usual attire and jacket. He then took out a scrap of paper to write a note to his grandmother, telling her where he went and promising her dinner when he returned. He didn't have to worry about breakfast or lunch, as she's been feeling slightly better enough to get out of bed. Joaquín left his room and peeked into her's to stick it on the inside of her door before he left into the cool autumn air. He figured he could pay her an early visit and discuss his dream.

He needed to, especially considering that this time, it ended differently.

~+JO*JO+~

Della had told Joaquín where she lived, despite never having been there. It was about six blocks down from his apartment. Since he knew she would probably be asleep (today was her day off), he decided not to go through the entrance of the apartment and instead used the fire escape on the side of the building to reach her room. Fifth floor was her's. After climbing the ladder up to her window, he knocked on it and waited. He was greeted by a mop of brown hair covering a girl's face, which rested upon a large and loose grey shirt.

"What do you want," said Della groggily.

"Hey Cousin It," joked Joaquín. She pushed her hair back and looked amused. "You got a few minutes?"

"Jojo, it's almost six thirty. You know I sleep in on my days off."

"I know that, but this is kind of important. I wanted to talk to you about these dreams I keep having."

Joaquín thought she would huff and shut the window in his face, but she opened it wider for him to enter, her expression now concerned. "Come in. Talk to me."

Her room was much cleaner than his mess back home. Her desk was occupied with several organized folders and books, along with some pictures of her and her family. The most recent seemed to have her mother and father, along with two elderly people he assumed were her grandparents. Della's bed, next to her desk, had several plush bears around her. It was actually cute. Della must have noticed where he was looking because she hurriedly said, "Those are my little sister's."

He caught the lie at once. "You don't have a sister."

"Dang it," she muttered.

"Hey, it's okay. No need to be embarrassed." He sat down on the chair across from her bed. "Sorry for waking you up this early. I just really wanted to talk to someone about this."

"I'm not upset." Della sat the edge of the bed, legs crossed and curious. "So, what are these dreams you keep having?"

"Well, I've been having them on and off for four years. And they all happen the same way." And so he began telling her about the dreams, starting with the first one. He was in a mansion, caught in a horrible inferno. The cold-faced man stalked his way up a wall as Joaquín escaped to the roof. He appeared just as he was ready to escape. The second one was at the edge of some balcony. The man was already lunging as Joaquín ran his fist through the flames of a candle to strike. And then there was this morning's dream.

"I can never understand it. Four years of the same dreams. _Four years_. Same person, same ending. You never usually dream about stuff like this unless you've gone through something traumatic. And trust me, the most traumatic thing I've dealt with was dad's death, and even then I didn't have recurring nightmares about it.

Della had stood very attentive to her friend. Not once did she blink or show disinterest. When he had finished, she asked him, "Have you met anyone like him before?"

"No. Not at all. I have some blonde friends, but they're not like him. This guy felt... inhuman. Everything about him, from his voice to those cold eyes. He looked like he didn't belong in this world… And the way he sounded when he went after me, you'd think he knows me or something..."

"Does he," asked Della.

"I don't know… but…" He thought for a second, wondering if he should tell her what happened this time. He didn't want to worry her, but she would be more concerned if he stood silent. So, that was when he looked her in the eye and said, "He called me by my nickname."

"Jojo?"

"Yes."

"T-The one I gave you?"

"Yes."

"Do you think maybe it just inserted that name since you heard me call you that?"

"No... It felt too real… as if he really _does_ know me. Or at least, another person named Jojo."

As he had expected, her face was one of shock. But it wasn't powerful enough to render her speechless, as she thoughtfully said, "Maybe this 'Jojo' he's talking about is a relative. Like… Maybe you're looking into the life of someone with that name."

"I kinda thought that myself before. It would make sense, but... who's life would it be? I just can't understand it… This has never happened until today… When I woke up, I felt this horrible chill in my heart. Those words were so cold and venomous… And he never spoke in that dream. In none of them. He just made this horrible screech each time. Like this." He cleared his throat and made a low, quiet and guttural sound in the back of it; a hiss he could have sworn he had heard in a movie once. "Wrrryyy..."

He saw Della shiver, and it was evident that his recreation of that monster's screech had the effect of scaring her. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I didn't mean to spook you, Della,"

"No, no," reassured Della, calming herself down. "It's okay… I'm not used to that kind of stuff, that's all…" She then reached out and gently touched his shoulder. It had a rather calming effect on him, making his tense body relax. "Jojo?"

"Yeah," he asked softly. His nickname sounded so endearing, her voice filled with care.

"I know these dreams are rather frightening, but… they're not real. Thet can't be. They're just dreams. Just think positively. This man in your dreams, he might not even be real. And whether he is or not, he's not going after you. It's not happening now. You're here. And you're with me... Jojo, you're safe. I promise you that."

Those green eyes held so much emotion in them. He could easily tell how she was feeling just be looking into those orbs. Right now, he could see just how much she cared for her friend. And it put him at ease knowing someone like her does give a damn when others would laugh or just treat him like he was just joking around. They reminded him of the way his grandmother would look at him at times. And that made him smile.

"Thank you, Della," he said.

"No problem, Jojo." And then, she did something he hadn't seen her do yet. She blushed. It looked quite unlike her. "Say, why don't you come sleep with me? You look tired. Maybe we could go out later, too. Take a trip through Queens or something. Does that sound good?" Normally, Joaquín would decline to sleep with her, just out of respect for her. But he was really tired, now that she mentioned it. And having some company to join him sounded more than welcoming.

"You know, that actually sounds good," and Joaquín stood up, giving her room to get back under her covers. She left it open for him to join her, which he did after taking off his shoes and jacket. The bed felt as cold as the air outside, but he didn't mind. It was comfortable. And he got to share it with his friend. Then, almost out of nowhere, he felt her come closer to him and wrap her arm around his chest. The bed didn't make him freeze up, but her sudden action did. "Um, what're you-"

"Just focus on sleeping," she interrupted, her eyes closed and her voice gentle and tired. "I promise I'll make you something to eat when we're up... Some good ol' pancakes in strawberry syrup... Now relax, Jojo... You're tensing up..."

The shock of her holding him slowly wore off, and his muscles went lax. Della nuzzled into him, the sight of which made him wonder. _Do you_ really _feel comfortable around me like this, Della? This isn't too awkward or forward for you?_ He wanted to think so. that his presence was indeed a comforting one for her. But before he could think any further about this, he felt the alluring pull of sleep make him close his eyes and return to his rest.

Thanks to Della, his sleep was peaceful and dreamless.

~+JO*JO+~

The rest of the day went perfect for the two. It began with Della keeping her word when it came to breakfast. Pancakes, strawberry syrup, and some bacon as an added bonus. After that, they left her home and hit the streets of their city. She led him to a different antique store, where they browsed around the near-forgotten knick-knacks of yesteryear. Then later, Joaquín showed her several Spanish stores along the streets. One of them even had similar paintings to the ones he had at home

Lunch soon came around, and Della decided to partake in some Spanish food. They stopped at his favorite _bodega_ and bought several food items he wanted her to try. "This is _bacalao_ ," he pointed out to the fried, fishy sheet in his napkin. "Codfish. It's really good. And this," he pointed to a fried potato ball Della held, "is _relleno de papa_. My _abuelita_ makes them with chicken, but most of the time, stores make them with beef"

It was evident she deeply enjoyed the food

There wasn't much excitement, which was good. Nobody was out for Joaquín's blood, nor did he stop for any fights, something he purposefully avoided. He saw no need to today. Della was with him. And though he wouldn't mind bringing her to one, he would rather enjoy the peace of her company, which says a lot. She seemed to have quite the effect on him while she was around, and he was certain it had nothing to do with any spirit (which she may or may not end up having).

It was five thirty when Joaquín and Della were both heading back to his place so he could order everyone some pizza. He figured he ought to, seeing as how he did promise his grandmother he'd handle dinner. "Anything you like on yours," he asked as he yawned. "I don't do vegetables on mine."

"Nothing special," replied Della. "I'm up for anything."

"I guess some pepperoni and bacon ought to do. Any particular soda?"

"Pepsi?"

"Works for me."

"Excuse me, sir." It was a kind and deep voice that spoke now. They turned to the speaker and found a young man sitting at a table outside a coffee shop, a deck of cards face-down beside him. He looked African, his youthful, broad-chinned face lined with symmetrical scars going down his cheeks from near his tear ducts. His short hair was pulled into several tails atop his head. And hanging from his ears were several gold talismans linked together in some intriguing necklace of sorts, resting on his brown cloak.

"Forgive me for stopping you both," he continued, "but would you be interested in a tarot reading?" The man gestured to the deck. _A tarot reading?_ He knew all about them, that they read into one's personal questions and answered them through cards. While they often weren't accurate, they did intrigue him.

"Actually, sure," said Joaquín, as he took a seat in front of him. Della stood by, watching this mysterious man. "Um, how much do you charge?"

"$25. However, for you, I shall do it for free."

"A _free_ tarot reading?" _How often do you get a freebie on these?_ "Thank you. So what do I do? Do I tell you what I want and then you make a reading from there?"

"No," said the man kindly. "You clear your mind of everything. Ask yourself one thing. Focus on that question, then," he took the deck and shuffled them expertly in his hands, all before lining them all up before him, "you are to choose six cards. I shall read each one's meaning to you."

Joaquín closed his eyes for a second. Indeed, there was one question he had in mind. What did the future hold for him? Once his grandmother was... What was he to do? Where would life take him? He focused on this question and reopened his eyes, gazing down at the twenty-two cards lined up before him. He chose the first card, which the man set aside in front of him. They continued until they had six cards. The rest were swept back into one deck. And then, he drew the first.

"The Fool. The beginning of a new journey. A new, carefree chapter in your life. Every day is an adventure, one which grants the opportunity to grow and become whomever you aspire to be. This card encourages to take a leap of faith into the unknown. Risky, yes, but the reward is well worth it. The Fool also represents a vital choice you need to make in your life. A difficult one, at that. You are encouraged to believe in yourself; no matter which decision you make, the one who will always be right is you.

"The Moon. Your journey is marred by fear. Fear of the unknown, and fear of the past. You will lose your way and be left with a sense of misdirection. Nothing will seem as it should. Although given your previous card was in a positive light, this is not as bad as it seems. Open your heart. Release your fears and conquer them. Do not let them shape your destiny. Clear your mind and let intuition guide you through the dark. Open the path before you before it is too late.

"The Lovers. I see. This represents harmony, perfection, and, as you can guess, love. The trust you place in your significant other can allow both of you to overcome whatever life's obstacles come your way. It also represents choices. A dilemma shall arise during your journey, one where your choices are either right or wrong. Unlike The Fool, your choice here will have repercussions no matter what you choose. It is up to you to determine the weight of these consequences and act accordingly. And who knows? Your decision just might be a blessing.

"The Chariot. Reversed. You will feel a lack of control in your life due to fate. The pressure leads to misguided aggression and loss of direction. It is a daunting card, I know, but what you need at this time is to keep your focus. Turn your aggression into determination for whatever the future may bring you. Take control of what you can and not stress over what you cannot. Even when things do not go as planned, do not be afraid to take new experiences. They may just lead you to a new adventure.

"The Tower. Disaster, change, a great upheaval. Like the bolt of lightning depicted here, these can come at any unexpected time. You might not even be prepared for it. It is a card that opens your eyes to harsh realities, shaking the very foundations of your life. What you need to remember is this: with destruction comes creation. Though your foundations are destroyed, you can begin anew. You are awakened to the truth, and by learning from your impacting experience, you will grow stronger and wiser.

"And lastly, The World. The journey's end. Throughout this, from start to end, you will endure many trials and hardships the likes of which you may not be prepared for. And yet, despite it all, you will come through fulfilled and more mature than when you began. Your experiences will all be worth it in the end when you finally achieve your goals, whatever they may be."

Joaquín stood in silence, attentive to every word this fortune-teller spoke. All in all, the reading did feel as if it pertained to his question. Where would his life lead him? Hardships, love, and a journey. One he needed to take, and one he knew he could accomplish. Everything that stood in his way, no matter how awful, he would overcome. He was confident about that.

The man swept the cards back into the deck and asked politely, "Do you feel satisfied with your reading, sir?"

Pulled from his thoughts, Joaquín hastily said, "Y-Yes. Yes, I am. It's… It was pretty insightful."

"My readings are usually not wrong. Whatever you go through in your life, approach it with your head raised and your eyes forward. Retrace your steps if you must and re-plan. But never stop in achieving your goals." This alone made Joaquín smile, for this man had the best interests at heart. His polite encouragement put him at ease in a manner similar to Della's presence. He wondered if he had that effect on anyone else.

With a shake of the man's hand, Joaquín got up and bid him farewell. As he got up out of his chair, he heard the man say, "By the way, sir. That is a very interesting birthmark."

This almost caught him off guard. He would have asked how he had seen it, but then he remembered that he had not brought his jacket with him when he left Della's apartment. It was rather plain to see by his neck. He turned back and said, "Yeah, it is. I've never seen anyone else with something like this. I'm surprised you didn't think it was a tattoo. A lot of people do."

"That star," he spoke carefully, "is both a blessing and a curse. Keep this in mind in your travels." He then smiled and bowed. "Have a pleasant evening, sir."

"Yeah, you too." He waved the man off as the two continued to walk.

The whole experience put an odd feeling in his stomach. The fortune-teller was certainly nice, and he had no doubt against his skills. But both the tarot reading and the ominous premonition about his birthmark was unsettling. Would this "journey" all be worth it? And was he both blessed and cursed? He wouldn't know until the time came for him to sit down and reflect on it all. For now, he simply shook his head and continued walking home with Della.

"Jojo," she asked in a concerned tone. "What's got you looking so serious?"

He turned to her and smiled. "I'm okay. Just doing a lot of thinking. That thing about my birthmark kinda shook me up."

"Well, my mom always said the same thing about strange birthmarks. That they would determine one's fate. But that's nothing too big to worry about. And that tarot reading, too?"

"Not as much as that cryptic warning. It was pretty interesting, but… I can only imagine."

"Those things aren't always accurate. Don't take it at face value too much. And even then, fate can change. We can't always put our faith in what cards tell us. We gotta make our life our own rather than let some fortune guide us. Cause then, what would happen if, in doing that, you end up going down a bad path?" She gripped his hand tightly, which made Joaquín's heart shudder and his smile grow brighter. "I don't wanna lose you. You're my friend… My best friend." And then, he did something he didn't expect he'd do.

He hugged her.

"You're my best friend too, Della," he said in a hushed voice, his friend reciprocating the hug. "You don't gotta worry about me that much. I'll be okay. I promise."

She then looked up at him, the way only a loved one would when they wanted reassurance. Della's wide eyes seemed brighter than he remembered. "You promise," she whispered.

"Promise," said Joaquín as they both let go and smiled. "Listen, it's almost six. We gotta head home and make the orders."

A look of panicked realization struck her face."Six? Oh no, I have my parents coming over! I forgot!" She turned red in embarrassment. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Jojo! I completely forgot! I should have told you!"

He shrugged, not at all bothered. "It's okay. It happens. You go on home, okay?"

"Send Lupe all my love, Jojo!" Joaquín nodded. After bidding his friend farewell, Joaquín ran all the way back to his apartment. He felt bad that she had forgotten something so important, but it was okay. _We can have pizza another day._

When he arrived, he was greeted to the sight of his grandmother on her favorite chair, fast asleep. She looked very much at peace with her arms folded over her stomach and a smile on her lined face. Looking closer, he noticed something peculiar in her hands. It looked like a letter. _That's weird_ , he thought. _She normally reads her letters the minute she gets them._ When he got closer, he saw a name written in her neat handwriting.

 _My name._

He ignored the letter for now and gently tried waking her up. " _Abuelita_ , wake up," said Joaquín. "You fell asleep again." There wasn't a response. He tried again. " _Abuelita_ , come on, wake up."

Something was wrong. She wasn't reacting. Being a light sleeper, his voice always woke her up. Something was _definitely_ wrong. Dreading the worst, he took hold of her wrist with his fingertips. Her skin was cold. And he felt no pulse. Panic slowly set in as he went to shake her now, not caring about courtesy. " _¡_ _Abuelita_ _!_ _Abuelita_ , wake up! _¡Por favor, levántase!_ _¡Levántase!_ " His voice grew more and more frantic with each second of her silence. He couldn't stop the tears from forming in his eyes. His grandmother still didn't wake, no fluttering of the eyelids or the rise and fall of her bosom. Nothing.

And then, the harsh reality of the situation finally set in for poor Joaquín. She was gone. He had turned his back for a few hours and now, he had come back to his grandmother lying dead in her chair. He was absolutely beside himself. _I… I didn't even get to say good-bye…_ His throat swelled, holding back his building scream. But his tears were uncontrollable, breaking loose as he immediately brought his grandmother into his shaky embrace. He lost her, just like he did his father. Her long-waged battle was lost. And now, he had nobody. No cousins, no aunts, uncles, no family to go to. Joaquín was alone.

The pain of loneliness and loss was too much to handle. His throat finally gave way to the anguished scream bottled up inside, tearing itself loose for the heavens to hear. He cursed at God in his native tongue, cursed him for taking away the last bit of family he had left. He would not stop until he lost his voice, reducing himself to hollow, yet pained sobs.

The neighbors must have heard him, for they came in and helped him off of her body. He did not object at all, but he did not stop crying. He just sat on the floor and held himself like a scared child as they called an ambulance for his grandmother. Nobody asked him any questions, respecting him in his time of tragedy. Not long after they made the call and left, he heard a familiar voice at the door.

"Joaquín…"

Looking up with watery eyes, he saw Della at the door, tears streaming down her cheeks. His forgotten jacket hung loosely in her grip, which she tossed aside so as to drop to her knees and embrace him. He didn't stop her. Never had he felt so heartbroken in his life. Not even after his father died. He needed someone to lean on, and Della was the only person he would want to seek comfort with. And he knew she was more than willing to help him.

After all, they were best friends. He shouldn't have to grieve alone.

~LUPE TREJO: (1920~1988) RIP~.


	5. Go Your Own Way

Ch. 5  
Go Your Own Way

NOVEMBER 24TH, 1988  
15:40  
QUEENS, NY

Today was no different than any other day at the J.F.K. International Airport. Businessmen were talking on their large, cellular phones as they hurried by, tourists were taking pictures and excitedly looking through maps of their destinations. The occasional family was trying to control their wild children. Yes, this was a typical type of day you'd expect to see here. And within this bustling airport, there was an air of excitement. For within the terminals housed inside were the figurative gateways to a new adventure.

But there was one person who did not feel the same sentiments. At least to that degree.

Joaquín Trejo was in this airport, waiting for his flight to Narita, Japan. He looked more than ready for his trip. His suitcase was already taken to be put on the plane when it arrived, leaving him with just his book bag filled with several belongings that wouldn't fit. He was dressed for the occasion, too. A tropical, button-up shirt under a black jacket, light jeans, and a new pair of black shoes. Around his neck was a locket inherited from his grandmother's will. In it was a picture of his father and Lupe.

It had been a few days since her untimely death. Lupe had everything set for her passing. Everything she had told him to do before her passing was done. A casket had been prepared for her, and she was buried beside her husband, who Joaquín never met but saw pictures of. Everything she owned that was worth selling was sold, leaving their apartment almost bare. Some of her belongings (such as her locket and her wedding rings) were kept by him. The money in her bank accounts was transferred over to his.

And every last "prized" ceramic cock she owned had been smashed to bits.

It was quite a harder process than he had anticipated. Half of the time, he had to stop what he was doing and cry. He didn't want to do any of what he was doing. He wanted his grandmother back, to have her cooking and hear her laughter again. But he knew he would never hear it again. Joaquín had to comply with her wishes if only to make sure she rests easily in the afterlife. All that he needed to know was written down in the letter she saved for him, which he read that night he passed.

Here is what it said:

Mi nieto cariño _,_

 _I don't know how long I have. Somehow, I feel as if today may be my last day. So I'm taking my chance to write this now before I go. I won't be here when you come back, but I hope this letter gets to you. And I hope you had a good day today, even if this might spoil it for you._

 _I hope you remember everything I needed to be done. My accounts emptied, everything sold, and my funeral. Bury me beside_ Abuelito _, please. That's my only request. I called a friend a few days ago to buy a casket. Pay her when you see her at the funeral. And those_ gallos más feo _need to be broken. Don't sell those, just break them. One last little payback against my_ mama _._

 _When you finish with all of that, buy yourself that ticket to Narita in Japan. You know how I always speak about destiny? Well, it begins with your mother. Yes, I know she lives there. I have known, and I'm sorry I didn't tell you before now. I wanted you to have hope in your time of pain. Your family is not all gone. You have her. And a stepfather. Her last name is Kuujou now, so she shouldn't be hard to find. Go make amends and begin a relationship with her. It's not too late._

He wasn't at all upset with her for keeping this a secret. On the contrary, it did fill him with some hope. But thinking about those words, even now, made his stomach turn funnily. He had never imagined meeting up with his mother for a long time. Now that he was going to, he didn't know how exactly he would approach her. If she even knew he was coming, that is. He can't exactly go to a home he had no address to, nor could he just show up unannounced and say, "Hi mom, it's me, your bastard son, can you love me?"

Because that would be weird.

 _Let's see… There's nothing else to say, so I'll end my letter here. Take care of yourself. You are my everything._ No te mueras. Te amo _._

" _Te amo también_ ," muttered Joaquín, wiping a tear from his eye. She truly did have the best intentions at heart. And he would never forget her unconditional love. Looking out the window of the terminal towards the sky, he hoped that she had reunited with her husband and son in heaven. He could almost imagine her smiling ear to ear and waving down at him from the clouds. "I'll see you all again one day. I promise."

His thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice. "Hey, Jojo! There you are!"

His head shot back to see Della walking up to him. She was dressed in a green, plaid shirt and black pants, her hair done into that familiar bushy tail.

"Della," Joaquín exclaimed. "Wait, what are you doing here?" But he had a feeling about why. She had been there for the funeral, and she knew about his plans to leave.

She smiled and said, "I thought about it after the funeral, and I decided you're not going alone. I spoke with Adam and he decided to give me an early vacation. 'Take as much time as you need', he said. After everything I saw you go through, there was no way I'm gonna let you go on your own."

Joaquín was in shock. _Is she really setting her work aside for me?_ "Why," he asked. "I mean, you don't have to do this, Della. I was told I have a-"

"Destiny, I know." Della sat beside him, still smiling. "But wouldn't it be better to start with someone by your side? Someone who's willing to help you along the way? Jojo, you're one of my closest friends. I don't wanna see you do this alone. And before you can tell me to turn back, I can't refund my ticket."

He didn't know what else to say. He was in total shock. Joaquín would never imagine someone would do something like this for him. He didn't even ask her to do this, it was all of her own free will. _Am I really that important of a friend to her that she would want to come all the way with me to Japan? To meet my family? To... start a new life there?_ Joaquín felt his spirits lift a bit just thinking about it. He shook his head and chuckled before looking back at her.

"Thank you," he said, and he certainly meant it.

"No problem, Jojo. Say, can you help me with my Japanese? You told me you took classes on it, right?" Della rummaged through her bag and pulled out a small notebook. She flipped through a few pages and then said in broken Japanese, " _Con itchy wa. Ore no namaey wa Dera Buroun. Ore wa guy jin._ How was that?"

Throughout the whole thing, Joaquín tried not to laugh, snickering behind his hands. When he saw her frown, he reassuringly said, "It's not bad. But you need more practice. What you need to do is focus less on phrases and more on the words. Japanese is a complex language, just like Spanish. They have different meanings and different ways to be used in sentences. It's not an easy language. Here, let me see that book."

So for the next hour, Joaquín helped Della brush up on the foreign language. According to her, she had started practicing last night, and while he was impressed she knew a few phrases, the lack of an accent and the slight mispronunciations gave him a minor headache. It was as annoying as white people trying to speak Spanish; he was tired of hearing "grassy ass" from people he met. But he could forgive Della, considering she wasn't too bad. All during their practice, several people began filling their seats. A man who sat beside them, he noticed, looked familiar. All too familiar, at that.

It was the fortune-teller.

"We meet again," the man said in his deep, courteous voice. "How are you fairing, my friend?"

"My grandmother died," he said all too suddenly without realizing it. "I mean... yeah. She passed away that day you read my fortune."

The man bent his head down solemnly. "I am sorry. _Ladayk tueazi_ "

"I'm sorry?"

"It means 'you have my condolences.'" He folded his hands patiently. "If you do not mind me asking, where are you bound for? Japan, correct? Tokyo?"

"Uh, yes. Both of us," said Joaquín as he motioned to Della.

"As am I. My partner and I have business there involving his family. I have been to Japan only once, but I have never met them before. How about you?"

"Well, my grandmother told me to go there and find my mom. Try to catch up and maybe reconcile. Thing is, she didn't tell me where to start looking. All I have to go by is her name, Holly Kuujou."

He could have sworn that, for a split second, the man's eyes widened at the mention of his own mother. But he shrugged it off, thinking his eyes were playing tricks on him. The man made no comment, instead saying, "I wish you luck on your search. I am certain you will find her." They both looked at the clock hanging on the wall. It was now 2:30 PM. Their flight wouldn't be here for another twenty minutes and won't be ready until several minutes afterward. "My partner will be here soon... Ah, that was fast. There he is now."

He pointed out to the entrance to the terminal. Joaquín and Della followed his finger and saw a tall, aged man in a trench coat. The man saw the fortune-teller and waved. Right out of nowhere, another, far younger man accidentally ran his suitcase into the elder, causing him to kneel and clutch his leg in pain. They were a few feet away, and even in the noise of the terminal, Joaquín could hear them,

"Aw man, I hit you," said the suitcase man, somewhat looking guilty. He was Japanese, he could tell. "You okay, _ojisan_? That was kinda embarrassing. You weren't really looking, so you're the one at fault there."

That was a rude thing to say, but the old man shrugged it off and gruffly reassured him, "No, it's okay. You're right. Anyone can make that mistake." He rose to his feet and straightened out his trench coat. He could barely see it, but he was certain that he saw a glint of something ominous in his eyes when he looked over the civilian.

"Hey, wait a minute. You're not Japanese, are you?" He was answered with a nod, to which he grunted, "Then that's a different story, isn't it?!" And all too quickly, with the agility reserved for someone much younger, he swung his leg right into the other's knee. Now it was the poor Japanese man on the floor and clutching his leg in pain. While Joaquín understood that he was angry about the whole ordeal, he felt it was wrong for him to retaliate so harshly just because of his race.

Without so much as a second thought, he stood up and began to approach him. He didn't notice Della had followed him until she got in his face, much to both his and the elder's surprise.

"What was that for, you old jerk," she almost yelled. "I saw the whole thing! What do you have against the Japanese?"

He grunted in annoyance and straightened his collar. "I don't like his kind," he replied. "Never had. The war pretty much cemented that. While I have respect for some Germans and Italians, the Japanese never had a welcome place in my heart. Especially since my daughter had to go all the way across the country to marry one."

 _He's British,_ thought Joaquín, having taken notice of his accent. _Makes sense that he hates them. The Axis powers had taken control over most of Europe during World War II. But they made peace after that. There's no call for racial violence._

"And for that, you had to take your frustrations out on some helpless stranger", asked Joaquín, arms crossed and eyeing him suspiciously. "If you weren't as old as you are, I would have to teach you a lesson about respect."

"RESPECT," roared the old man. "What would you know about respect?! Look at you! You look like the most disrespectful thug in New York! I bet you're the kind of punk who trips up old ladies just for a laugh!"

"No way," Joaquín argued, his blazing blue eyes locked with his periwinkle that looked as if they had seen too much pain in one lifetime. "I'm the kind of guy who trips up other punks for tripping up old ladies just for a laugh. And I do it for free. What happens next after that is on them."

They stood glaring at each other. They were almost as tall as each other. Joaquín had looked him over for a second when he approached. He had short and light graying brown hair, which matched the short beard he sported. His aged and lined features still had the spark of some youth, which his eyes complemented. Under his turtleneck, he could make out the outline of muscles. If his eyes were any indication, this man had to have fought in the war.

 _He's no ordinary man_. And Joaquín knew that. _If I try fighting him, I'm only gonna get my ass kicked from here to the Bronx. Even with Preciosa by my side._ It excited him, yes, but he was an old man. He knew better than to mess with the elderly. So Joaquín resigned himself to a shrug. "Well, whatever," he sighed as he turned back around and walked to his seat. "I don't have time for this. Just don't let me catch you picking on anyone else before I take my trip, you old geezer."

He wasn't meaning to be disrespectful with that comment, but it seemed to upset the old man. From behind him, he heard him shout, "Watch your mouth," which grew in volume as he approached. Joaquín turned around and saw the man ready to punch him. He moved quickly and blocked the punch with his hand, using his _hamon_ to envelop his hand in static-like energy so he would get the message. It worked, but not the way he thought it would. The man simply stopped in his tracks, pale and aghast.

The _hamon_ did nothing else to him.

The man slowly asked, "How do you know that technique," and he did not sound happy at all. "Answer me, kid! How the hell do you know about the _hamon_?"

"I was born with it," said Joaquín defensively. Then he registered the rest of what the old man said, and a feeling of confusion washed over him. "Wait, what? You know about the _hamon_ too?"

"I've never taught anyone, and my mother stopped teaching after me! There's no way you should know about _hamon_!" He then punched again, And when he saw his fist, Joaquín briefly gasped. It was covered in sparks as well. A single thought blared in his head.

 _It's him! This guy's the_ hamon _user from fifty years ago! Joseph Joestar!_

He didn't have time to freak out. There was still a fist heading for his face. Joaquín quickly dodged it and countered, a blazing fist connecting with his jaw. All it did was make him stagger. Their eyes were locked together, both filled with equal parts anger and excitement. Then, as they backed away from one another, Joseph aimed his right hand at him and shouted, "Hermit Purple!"

All too suddenly, long, purple, thorn-covered vines shot out from his outstretched hand and wrapped around Joaquín. Della gasped in shock, and the fortune-teller stood up in concern. These vines weren't hurting him at all, but they did hold him tightly in place. Not for long, however, as Joaquín summoned Preciosa to forcefully tear off the vines. The old man was in a state of shock.

"You think your spirit's gonna hold me down," asked Joaquín smugly. "Who do you take me for, some wimp?"

"I knew it," said the fortune-teller. Turning to him, he noticed he looked just as shocked. "You have one too. A Stand."

"Stand? Wait a minute…" His eyes suddenly widened. "You have a spirit too?!

"Yes. And we call them Stands. They're the physical manifestation of the human soul. I've never seen one as clear as yours…"

Now Joaquín's head was spinning. As if fighting Joseph Joestar wasn't enough, now he finds out the man who read him his fortune days ago had one of these spirits all along. These so-called Stands... He looked wise enough to know quite a lot about them. As did this Joseph. It was as he thought this that he realized their fight had garnered unwanted attention. Some of the passersby had stopped to give them funny looks. "What the fuck are you all looking at," he yelled, causing them all to disperse.

As Preciosa faded back into him, he looked at Joseph and said, "Okay, let's put a stop to this, cause I'm pretty damn sure you don't want a fight. You want answers as much as I do. So first off, are you really Joseph Joestar?"

The old man's eyes widened in response. "Y-Yes, I am," he said as the broken vines retracted. "But how do _you_ know my name?"

"I bumped into Mayor Smokey."

Joseph's face lit up immediately. "Smokey? He's an old friend of mine! I take it he saw you use _hamon_ and mentioned how I could do it?"

"Yeah. I heard a few stories about some kid who had the same powers as me fifty years ago." Now he looked rather flustered. "I-I'm sorry I attacked you like that. Had I known, I wouldn't have done it."

"It's no problem." Joseph chuckled and stroked his beard. "I'm surprised to know that some people even remember that. But I'm still curious about you, kid. You said you were born with it?"

"Yeah. Just what exactly is it?"

Joseph moved past him and took his friend's seat. " _Hamon_. It's Japanese for 'ripple'. The art of using _hamon_ is known as _sendou_ , or 'the way of the hermit'. It's an ancient Eastern martial art that uses ripples generated the body through advanced breathing."

"Smokey told us you used it to fight vampires with it," said Della. "Was he right?"

"Yes, actually. All when I was eighteen. It's a long story, but if you're taking the same flight as I am, I could tell you a bit more about it."

"We are. Your partner said he was heading to Japan, too." He then looked at the fortune-teller and asked, "Sorry, but what's your name?"

"Mohamed Avdol," he answered.

"Thank you. Now that leads to my second question. Just what exactly are these Stands? I've met several people who could use them, but I've never heard anyone call them that before."

"As I have said, Stands represent the soul, the innate fighting spirit of a human being. They act as guardian spirits, each with their own different personalities, abilities, and strengths that reflect off of their own user. Most men are born with them, however, under circumstances I have yet to understand, some are not. Mr. Joestar here," he gestured to Joseph, "was not born with a Stand. His Hermit Purple manifested without warning just last year."

 _Last year was when Preciosa appeared. Just after Dad's funeral._ He told him exactly that, and Mohamed's brow furrowed. "Strange. You're the second person who I've met who has experienced this. I assume you also fell ill before he was summoned?"

"Yeah. Sick to my stomach. I could barely fight. Then someone pissed me off and my Stand beat him up. Before then, I've never been able to see them."

"Most mysterious…" Mohamed took a seat beside Joseph, his brown eyes settling up at Joaquín. "Both you and Mr. Joestar have suffered the same phenomenon. Stands that have appeared late into adulthood with no signs whatsoever, a brief illness beforehand…" And then he flashed a bizarre smile. "Perhaps you both are more alike than you think."

"You're telling me. We both have Stands we weren't born with and we have the _hamon_. How much more alike can we get? Anyway, I'm pretty sure you can find a better answer than we could. Oh, before I forget, the name's Joaquín Trejo." He then pointed to Della. "And that's my buddy Della Brown."

Joseph looked at him funnily before asking, "Your last name is Trejo? Say, you wouldn't happen to be related to Carlos Trejo, would you?"

He froze. The noise in the terminal seemed to have been drowned out by his own shock. Joseph had just mentioned his father's name. He wasn't a famous man. He didn't make a name for himself. So how would he know that name? Swallowing the lump that formed in his throat, Joaquín steadied his voice and said, "Maybe… How do you know him?"

"Well, I remember he stole my wallet, once. Then he ended up becoming my daughter's boyfriend. They dated for a few years and eventually, they broke up. She ended up having a child with Carlos, but she gave it to him to raise instead. I never knew why."

His heart was thumping now. _There's no way_ , he thought, his body shaking with nervous excitement. _This isn't a coincidence, it can't be._ Steeling his nerves and hoping that he would answer his next question the way he hoped, Joaquín asked "Was… Was her name H-Holly?"

Joseph's eyes widened. "How do you know that?"

"Because my mother's named Holly," he exclaimed. "That's why I'm going to Japan, to meet her!

"Wait… you're Holly's son?!"

"Yes!"

Joseph quickly stood up, eyes growing wider. "And Carlos is your father?"

"Yes!"

"Then that means…"

It was more than obvious what this spelled out. But they had to be sure that this wasn't just some elaborate prank devised by either of them. To help confirm this, Mohamed spoke up and said, "Mr. Joestar, he is. He has the same birthmark as you. I saw it with my own eyes."

The two men immediately clapped their cheeks and shouted in unison. "OH MY GOD!"

"You're my grandson," exclaimed Joseph.

"You're my _abuelito_ ," exclaimed Joaquín.

It was as if the fight had never happened. Both grandfather and grandson, meeting for the first time, laughed and hugged each other. He knew little about this man, and he felt Joseph knew just as much. But that was okay. Joaquín had a grandfather now, who was ruffling his hair as though they've always known each other. And that was all that mattered to him.

He cried once again, and this time, they were tears of happiness.

"Let me take a look at you," said Joseph, and he held him back at arm's length. He studied him briefly, as he did to him. "You look like me when I was younger. And my grandfather."

"Really," asked Joaquín. He looked up at his grandfather and he noticed, behind the wrinkles and facial hair, that he did have some resemblance to him. "Hey, I can see it! You're right!" He turned to Della and asked, "Hey, Della, do _you_ think we look alike, too?"

She giggled and replied, "Just a tiny bit. Put him through a de-aging machine and then we'll talk."

"Yeah, yeah," Joaquín jokingly waved her off before turning back to his grandfather, his eyes wide and teary. "Man, this is… This is incredible… You're my grandfather… And here I was thinking I had no more family except for mom. I've been going through a bad time for the past few days. My grandmother just passed away, and-"

"Lupe passed away," Joseph gasped, the smile immediately wiped from his face. "I met her before. Such a sweet woman. I'm so sorry, Joaquín. What about Carlos? Is he still around?"

"Sadly, no. Like I said, I've got nobody except you and Mom. And I don't know if she would even accept me back into her life."

"Oh, chin up. Of course she will. She's a saint. That's why she's named Holly. And if for some reason she doesn't, you're more than welcome to come back and live with me and my wife Suzie."

It was almost too good to be true. Regardless of what happened, he had a family again. His heart simply swelled from the kindness his grandfather was showing, and they had just met! Before Joaquín could say anything else, a voice spoke over the intercom above them. "Now boarding Alitalia flight 285 gate 3. That's Alitalia flight 285 at gate 3."

"Come sit by me. We have a lot to catch up on before we get there." Joseph motioned for Mohamed to join him, who wordlessly did so. When the fortune-teller passed, he flashed Joaquín a warm smile.

"How come you didn't tell me before," asked Joaquín, who wasn't upset at him at all. "You knew he was my grandfather, so why wait until now?

Mohamed simply smiled before saying, "I wanted you both to formally meet each other first and figure it out. You are both intelligent men. Though I did not expect you both to fight one another."

"It's okay. If it makes things any better, I wanna fight him again. Without our Stands." The two men, along with Della, made their way into their plane. "Speaking of which, could you tell me more about them? Especially Della?"

The man looked at Della curiously, stroking his chin. She hesitantly spoke up. "It's w-weird, really. I can see them just fine, but I don't have one. I don't feel like I have a Stand; no powers or anything."

"It simply means that your Stand has not awakened yet," said Mohamed. "This is not unheard of. A Stand normally develops from the emotional stress brought on by a great upheaval in life. Sometimes, it takes much longer for others depending on their own spirit. Myself, I have had my Stand since birth, and it was through overcoming my own stress, as well as a crippling sickness, that I had attained my Stand. I believe yours will manifest soon enough. And hopefully during an appropriate time."

"And how will I know what powers it'll have?"

"You will have to wait and see. Now come. We do not want to lose our seats."

Before Joaquín could follow him, he was temporarily stopped by Della. He had expected her to ask things like, "Do you believe them?" Or, "Can we trust them?" But the smile on her face and her bright eyes hadn't a shred of doubt on them. She simply said to him, "I'm happy you have your other family back in your life. Even if it's a few decades late."

 _So am I, Della. So am I._

* * *

STAND TIME

STAND USER: JOAQUÍN TREJO (ホアキーン・トレホ)

STAND NAME: PRECIOSA (美しい (プレシオサ))

POWER: A, SPEED: A, RANGE: C, DURABILITY: A, PRECISION: A, POTENTIAL: C

ABILITY: Like the coquí frog he is based on, he can leap incredible heights (over 100 meters) and can cling to any surface. The slimy coating he has can be used in a variety of ways, but most effectively as a conductor for _hamon_. He has keen eyesight, allowing it to see great distances in even a microscopic manner, as well as keep up with any fast-moving objects. His hearing is also acute. The fast, hard-hitting punches he throws are best described as "a hurricane's downpour mixed with the worst hailstorm ever". His kicks are no exception, either, although he prefers using his fists more. In addition to all this, his reflexes are precise and fast enough to catch bullets between his fingers.


	6. Ryuusei no Saddle

Ch. 6  
Ryuusei no Saddle

NOVEMBER 25TH, 1988  
15:04  
OVER THE PACIFIC OCEAN

The flight from New York to Japan would take about thirteen to fourteen hours. And in that span of time, during their waking moments, Joaquín and Della were amazed at everything old Joseph spoke with them about. They had learned a bit more about the _hamon_ , which his (unbeknownst to him at the time) mother helped him improve upon. And he went into more detail about Stands, which seemed to have some minor ties to _hamon_ as well.

"Just like _hamon_ , you can't properly use it unless your breathing is stable," explained Joseph to the two. "The same goes with your body, physically and mentally. If you're unfocused, your Stand's strength will weaken. The same works in reverse, as I'm assuming you already know."

"I've seen it before," said Della, who took a swig of some soda given to her by a stewardess. "Say, you mentioned that some outside force might have had a hand in yours and Jojo's Stands awakening."

Joaquín felt she had a good point. Neither were born with them, only just recently attaining them. He asked his grandfather if he knew what was causing it, only to be told, "I'll explain when we get there." And so he left it at that.

Aside from Stands and _hamon_ , Joseph spoke about his life. He was apparently the grandson of a noble, and his inheritance allowed him to form his own real estate agency. He was married to his mother's maid and had lived in New York since he was 18. That same year, his life had changed forever when he became entangled with Nazis and god-like beings known as the Pillar Men; they were the ones responsible for the creation of vampires.

"There were four of them." Joseph counted them off on his fingers. "The one the Nazi's called Santana, then there's Esidisi, Whamuh, and the leader, Kahz. They were beyond anything I've ever fought, even to this day. To have killed two of them was nothing short of a dumb, lucky miracle."

"T-Two," said Della shakily. "What about the ones who s-survived?"

"They've both been turned to stone. Santana is being watched by the foundation and Kahz is, well…" He looked out the window towards the empty sky, the clouds a sea of white below them. "I doubt he'll be coming back from outer space any time soon. That volcano shot us way up there."

Both youths' eyes were as wide as dinner plates. The more and more his grandfather spoke, the more admiration Joaquín had for him. He had such an exciting life, where almost every day was a battle. But there was also pain Joaquín had noticed in his eyes back at the airport. Curious about it, he carefully asked, "Hey, _Abuelito_? Did anything bad happen back then? When you were fighting these guys?"

Joseph smiled briefly when he was addressed like this, and it did not falter when he spoke again. "Yes. Back then, I met a man named Caesar Zeppeli. He was the grandson of the man who taught my grandfather _hamon_. He was a cocky bastard, and our personalities and values clashed every now and then. But under the tutelage of my mother, our rivalry became a friendly one. I considered him as a brother. Then, one day, we got into a heated argument about our heritage."

"What happened after that?"

"He lost against one of the Pillar Men. And before he died, he offered the last of his _hamon_ , and a ring that contained an antidote for the poison I was about to suffer from…" He was still looking outside. _Maybe he sees him out there in the clouds_ , thought Joaquín with a somber smile. "If I could travel back in time, I would stop that silly argument between those two knuckle-headed punks."

Della leaned from behind them and patted his broad shoulder consolingly. "You can't change the past. If he were still here, he would tell you to move on. What's done is done. Besides, I'm sure he's looking down at you with a smile for remembering him as your friend."

"Thank you, Della. I appreciate it." He then turned to his grandson and asked, "Are you nervous?"

 _He's talking about mom._ "Of course I am," he nervously chuckled. "I'm her son, and she hasn't been in my life at all. We know as less about each other than you and I do now. I have so many questions in my head, and I'm just… afraid of the outcome. I don't know what she would say and do.

"Well, as I said, I'm certain she would welcome you with open arms. Family means everything to her. Speaking of which, you know you have a stepfather, correct?"

"Obviously, if her last name isn't Joestar anymore."

"That's right. But… you should know, she had a son with him."

The revelation was more impactful than him finding out Joseph Joestar was his maternal grandfather. He looked at him with wide blue eyes and sputtered, "I-I-I have a brother?! Why didn't you tell me sooner!"

"K-Keep your voice down!" He had almost forgotten they were on an airplane, and several people were trying to sleep. "Yes, you do. A younger brother. Seventeen years old. His name is Joutarou. And when you see her, I'm certain you'll also get to meet him as well."

Joaquín's worry melted away into giddy anxiousness. He wanted this flight to speed up so he could arrive in Japan and meet his younger sibling. He had always wanted a little brother so he could play games with him and teach him to fight. When he closed his eyes for a moment to picture him, he envisioned a lighter skinned version of himself with Asian features and a school uniform ( _He is seventeen, so he ought to still be a student.)._

"Do you know what he's like?"

Joseph scratched his beard thoughtfully. "I haven't seen him since he was a little boy. From what I remember, he had a bit of an attitude. He also ran a lot. Quite a bit of energy. And he wasn't born with _hamon_. Neither was Holly, now that I think about it."

"Maybe whatever she had in her was passed down to me?"

"I don't know, because my father never had the _hamon_. I got mine from my mother, who was trained in it by her adopted father Straizo."

The vampire who had stalked Joseph and set him on the path of his inescapable destiny to battle the Pillar Men. It was the first story he had told, which Mayor Smokey had been an audience to. The mention of this man's name made Della inexplicably perk up. "Hey, wait a minute. Straizo… Now that you mention him again, I think I remember a story about him from my grandmother.

"You've heard of Straizo," asked Joseph with surprise.

"Bits and pieces of it… My grandmother mentioned some weirdo with that name took her hostage, and some other weirdo blew him up. She told me he almost refused to save her. And called her an ugly bitch and let her tooth get yanked out."

Joseph almost shrieked as he pulled away from her. It was his turn to have his eyes like plates "You're that girl's granddaughter?!"

Della's eyes lit up as she slowly turned to him. Her voice became low and dangerous, a first for Joaquin's ears. It was oddly cute. "Wait... Are you saying that you're that guy that saved her?"

"Y-Yes," he said meekly, right before getting slapped into the back of another seat. Joaquín laughed, as did Della. He couldn't see it, but he felt that Mohamed, who sat beside her, had cracked an amused smile.

The rest of the ride was a pleasant one for the group, filled with laughs and devoid of any more slaps.

~+JO*JO+~

They had landed at New Tokyo International Airport around six. Joaquín and Della sat down with Mohamed as he told them interesting stories about Egypt and other places he had visited. He also mentioned how he had met Joseph three years ago during a business trip to New York. Joseph, meanwhile, had phoned Holly to come and pick them up, not mentioning that her firstborn was with him. _I think it's better to leave it as a surprise, but that just makes me feel more nervous than seeing her at her home._

Della, who picked up on his tenseness, patted his back "You can do this, Jojo," she reassured in a low voice. "I know it's not easy, but you're strong. This is your family. She won't turn away from you. I promise."

Joaquin wasn't sure if he should believe her or not. But being that she was his closest friend, he couldn't help but trust her intuition. He silently thanked her as Joseph returned, though when he looked up, he noticed that he looked put off by something. He sat up straight and asked, " _Abuelito_ , did something happen?"

"Holly's coming," he answered, "but we also have to pick your brother up from the police station."

"What?!"

"He got into a fight with some punks. Apparently, he's possessed by an 'evil spirit', he told her."

"That's gotta be a Stand," Joaquín guessed. "That would make sense. When I went home after I woke mine, I thought I was possessed, too."

"Likewise. And that poor boy's been in there for almost four days."He sighed and shook his fist and sniffed in melancholic scorn. "It's been far too long. He probably doesn't even remember what I look like. I can't understand why my only daughter chose to start a life halfway across the world. Damn Japa-"

" _¡Abuelito_ _!_ Cut the racism!"

"Sorry, sorry!"

He barely knew his brother either, only knowing he was a bit of a rough child growing up. Hearing that he was in jail painted a newer mental picture of him. Now he imagined someone that looked like him in a scruffy uniform, his hair cut into a stereotypical pompadour Japanese punks were depicted with in the manga he used to read. Admittedly, Joaquin was a punk in his own right, but he had never done anything that would land him in jail. _Joutarou… Just what kind of person are you? I need to know…_

A half hour passed. Joseph has been walking around the terminal, lost in thought, and the others were busy going through their belongings, when there was a sudden cry of, "Papa! Over here, papa!"

The voice caught Joaquín's complete attention. He turned to the sound and his blood froze. He knew the face of the lady who called out to her father. How could he forget the young face he had seen multiple times in his photo album, with that long, reddish brown hair, and those wide, light blue eyes?

It was none other than Holly Kuujou. His mother.

The woman ran right into her father's arms, who pushed a man out of the way to reach her. It had been a few years since they last met, from what Joaquín understood. When you're living on the opposite side of the world, it would be pretty difficult to take time and see your family.

"Aw, that's so touching," said Della with a soft smile. "Wouldn't you-"

She didn't have time to finish her sentence when Joaquín shot out of his seat towards them. He pushed his grandfather aside before embracing his mother for the first time in his life. Holly was frozen on the spot as he buried his face in her shoulder, shaking and trying not to break down. He was feeling a bizarre mixture of happiness, anger, and sadness all at once. One thing was for certain:

He didn't want to let her go.

"Ah, who are you," she asked innocently as he pulled her away to see her face. She was not as young as he had remembered in her pictures. Small lines formed around her eyes and lips, betraying her youth.

"I-I…" He was choking on his words. Now that he was here, right in front of her, he couldn't speak. It took a second before he regained his voice, though it was still cracking under the pressure of a sob. "I'm Joaquín… I'm your s-son… I.. I found you, _mama_ …"

And now it was his mother's turn to choke on her words. Tears flowed freely, and to the joy of his swelling heart, she hugged her eldest son tightly. Finally, he let loose and broke down in happiness against her. As did she. She didn't reject him, as he subconsciously feared the whole trip. He was welcomed with more than happily open arms. It was far sooner than he had anticipated, but Joaquín finally met his mother. The embrace lasted for a few minutes before they broke it, red-eyed and smiling.

"You're so tall," she said. "And you look like-"

" _Abuelito_ when he was younger," Joaquín finished for her. "And his _abuelito_ before him."

"But you have my eyes." He blushed at the compliment. Holly's warm and watery smile faltered, and immediately he saw her guilt set in. "Joaquín, I'm so sorry I left you. I was a selfish mother. I should have-"

But he put a comforting hand on her shoulder and smiled. "Mom, it's okay. Whatever happened back then, I forgive you. I'm just… I'm just happy I can finally meet you. Although, I wish it was under better circumstances." And he went on to briefly explain his situation to her. When he finished, Holly looked even sadder. "Did you still love dad?"

"P-Partly. I know my heart belongs to my husband, but I've never stopped loving him. Even after the f-fallout… Oh, Joaquín… I can only imagine the pain you must be going through. But don't you worry… You have me, papa and Joutarou."

"It's okay. Thank you." He hugged her again, hoping it would make her smile again. It did, for when his grandfather interrupted their moment with a cough, he saw her face aglow with comfort.

"I don't wish to be rude, Holly," said Joseph as he fixed the fedora he had put on after landing, "but aren't we supposed to pick up my other grandson?"

She had almost forgotten, having been caught up with her estranged son. "Oh, yes! Of course!" And when she noticed Della and Mohamed getting up, she looked apologetic, "Oh, I'm sorry. I had caught a taxi for us to go in. I wasn't anticipating extra company. Will you all be able to fit?"

"Sure can, ma'am," piped up Della, grabbing a hold of her suitcase. "I can just sit in Joaquín's lap during the ride."

If there was one thing Joaquín was thankful for is that comedic nosebleeds were impossible. But her comment did leave him three shades redder than usual. _Do you have to s-say that out loud,_ he screamed in his own head, embarrassed. _Shit, I hope nothing pops out and pokes her. I might as well be saying my prayers now…_

They had all left the terminal and the airport as a whole to a taxi waiting outside. Its trunk was spacious enough for three suitcases, two book bags, and a duffel bag (Mohamed's). It was a cramped ordeal when it came to sitting. Mohamed took the front as the rest sat behind. With both Joaquín and Joseph's size, the women were almost squished in their seats. Neither of them minded, however.

"Now, Holly, "said Joseph, taking a serious tone. "Are you sure Joutarou said it was an 'evil spirit'?"

"Yes," she said worriedly. "The policemen couldn't see it, but I could. Another hand came out of Joutarou, and then he shot himself and the hand caught the bullet! It was as clear as day, yet nobody else could see it! It was just scary!"

"He probably felt the same when he tried shooting himself," added Joaquín. He then asked her, "Has he had anything like this before?"

"No, and it was the first time I've seen it myself."

 _Sounds like Joutarou's suffering from the same effects as me and_ Abuelito _. But… if this is her first time seeing a Stand, then…_ "Mom, what about you? Do you feel any different? Are you feeling sick?"

"Not at all. I feel just fine, but now that you mention it, Joutarou did feel sick before he left home that day. And now he won't come out of his cell until he finds out the cause of this. Oh, what should we do..?"

"Well, you'll be happy to hear that you can stop worrying. _Abuelito_ and I know what's happening to him." _And to you,_ he secretly thought, feeling somewhat perturbed about his mother potentially having a Stand. "You can count on us to get him out."

Now that they talked about it, Joaquín got to wondering about his brother again. This time on his Stand. _It can catch a bullet. Just like Preciosa can. Is it even the same type? I mean, that would be pretty interesting to see._ However, with his interest, there also came worry. _But just how strong is it? More importantly, am I gonna have to fight it? Fight my own brother? That's now how you make a first impression._

They didn't stop at her home quite yet. Rather, they stopped at the police station where Joaquin's brother was held. They left the cab's meter running. The driver didn't mind, but he was shocked to find out a prisoner was going to join them.

" _You're really gonna let a hoodlum in here_ ," he asked incredulously to the group. " _What if he decides to mug me?_ "

" _Keep your pants on, he won't mug you_ ," Joaquín reassured in Japanese before stepping into the station. Inside, a stout officer with a receding hairline told them all about how Joutarou got into a bloody fight with four other thugs. Now locked up, he had scared the other prisoners with his "evil spirit" and made things mysteriously appear in the cell.

The group was led down to the holding cells. There was a cold silence. Almost all of them were empty, all except the last two Looking carefully over the officer, who stopped them at a certain distance, Joaquín saw that one of the cells held three thugs, each looking at them and shaking their bruised and scared faces. _Joutarou must have beaten them up. Or maybe it was his Stand._

He could just barely see the last cell. But what he could see in there were several questionable items lining its wall. A punching bag, leather jackets, weights, books, bikes (one a work-out type), and even an RC car. He had to wonder how on Earth he was able to bring these things into his cell, given how he's separated by walls of concrete.

The officer, who had seen what he had seen, was now quaking in his shoes. " _Oh geez. I-It happened again._ " There was a quiver in his voice. " _He made m_ _-more things appear in his cell._ "

 _"_ _You mean this isn't the first time_ ," asked Joaquín in Japanese. The officer was surprised at how fluent he sounded, yet he made no comment on it.

" _Far from it. And he's really violent, too. We had to move the other inmates because they got hurt. He's definitely possessed by something evil… If my chief found out, I'm fired._ "

" _Don't worry, sir. We know what's going on. And I can assure you, it's not evil._ " Moving the officer aside, Joaquín approached the cell. He was filled with an odd thrill. It wasn't on the same level as with his mother, but he was anxious to finally see him. He didn't care how he looked, be it like a punk or just some regular kid. _Joutarou's my brother. I'll love him no matter how he-_

" _Who the fuck are you?_ "

His voice was low and gruff, sending a chill down his spine. Sitting in his bed was Joutarou, his younger brother. And his prior intuition of him being a punk could not have been more correct.

He wore a dark, navy blue _gakuran_ that sported a large gold chain from the left collar. His fair-skinned face was just like his, only locked in a permanent scowl that formed a type of emotionless wall. _Same eyes, same thick eyebrows. Even his hair looks like a mess._ And it was funny to see his dark hair, because he didn't know where it started; his cap, torn at the back, seemed to blend in perfectly with it. His whole appearance screamed delinquent. Was he really his brother?

" _I asked who you are,_ " said Joutarou as he climbed out of bed and approached the bars. He sounded uncaring, but behind the stoic voice, Joaquin noticed a hint of genuine curiosity. He was standing in front of someone with a similar appearance to him, so of course he would feel that way. " _And why do you look like you could be my brother?_ "

" _Because I_ am _your brother, kid_ ," answered Joaquín. For the briefest of moments, Joutarou's wall broke, looking surprised at this sudden revelation. But it was rebuilt in an instant.

"So y _ou're Joaquín. That explains why we almost look alike… Yeah, that bitch told me about you before. Well, forget about helping me. Sorry you had to come all this way for nothing."_

 _Is he serious_ , thought Joaquín as one of his eyes twitched. _I get that you're hiding your emotions behind apathy, but that's no reason to call our mother a bitch._

" _Watch it, you jerk_ ," he raised his voice. " _That's our mother you're talking about!_ "

" _Our? You haven't been in her life for years, so how can you still call her your mother?_ "

" _Because she's my family. And so are you. Now come out, we're here to help you._ "

" _Don't bother. My evil spirit is pretty violent. If you try coming near me, you'll only be shortening your life._ " He returned to his bed and laid down with his back turned to him. " _Now beat it, asshole._ "

It seemed there was no other way to persuade his brother to leave than to show him just what he was dealing with. Joaquín briefly looked back at his grandfather, as though they both thought the same thing. Getting the go-ahead nod, he sighed and turned back to his brother. " _Fine_ ," he said, holding back his anger over his brother's stubbornness. " _You want me to beat it? Then I will…_

" _Your face, that is!_ "

Preciosa lunged out from him towards Joutarou, grabbing him by the scruff of his pink shirt and pinning him to the wall. Holly gasped in fear as the officers looked confused. For all they could see, Joutarou had been inexplicably lifted into the air. He looked on in furious shock as Joaquín spoke again.

" _You see him, don't you? That's_ _my_ _so-called 'evil spirit'. What we have are powerful visions created by your own life energy. A manifestation of our very souls, bendable to our will. These ghostly ripples that stand beside us are called Stands. And contrary to what you believe, they're not evil. Now quit acting like a baby; you're coming with me._ "

He knew his brother's response wouldn't be a childish, "Make me." He was going to retaliate, doing so when his Stand appeared and broke Preciosa's grip on him. The two spirits looked the same, but Joutarou's was purple and lacked frog-like features. He sported a golden crest around his head, which matched the scarf and pauldrons he wore. Coupled with wild hair, a loincloth, his gold-studded gloves, and his stoic expression, he looked like a modern-day Tarzan.

Before Joaquín could react, Joutarou's Stand immediately grabbed Preciosa's neck. He staggered back and touched his own, feeling the impression of fingers holding him. "That's... awesome…," he strained. "He looks like mine... And he's very clear, too... I wasn't expecting this..."

"You are correct," said Mohamed. "Both of your Stands are clear. You should feel rather proud to meet someone with a Stand as powerful as yours."

"Yeah, because I'm definitely celebrating being choked by one," said Joaquín sarcastically. "Listen, _A_ _bulelito_... I really want to get him out... But I might have to put a bit more force into it than I thought... I mean, he is close to killing me..." He pointed towards his neck to drive the point home. "One of us might end up in the hospital... Most likely me... What should I do..?"

Joseph crossed his arm and leaned against a wall. "Well, if you really must, then go for it."

"Alrighty then!" And Preciosa punched the purple Stand right in the face, sending him and Joutarou stumbling back. His own Stand's arm swelled up with oil, thickening up into a slimier substance. He aimed his shiny yellow arm and used a hand to slowly scrape it off. Joaquín then shouted " _Sapo_ Sap!" and swiped the slime off. It hit Joutaro's chest and glued him to the wall. He swiped again and covered his mouth and his hands. _You can't use your stand if you can't breathe._

Sure enough, Joutarou's muscular Stand slowly began to fade. Della and Holly tried to step forward, but Joaquín stopped them. "No. It's okay. I got this. Thanks." He then turned back to his struggling brother, this time speaking more sincerely. " _Look, I get it. This whole situation has you scared. I was too when I first saw Preciosa. I thought I had the ghost of my dad following me. While I know now that wasn't the case, I came to trust him. He's not evil. He won't hurt anyone unless I really want him too._

" _The same goes with your Stand, Joutarou! Don't see your him as an evil force. Treat him as your guardian. He will help you in more ways than just beating up a bunch of thugs recklessly. Control him. Train him... You can do it, just like I did. Now please. I'm asking as nicely as I can. Say you'll come out, and I won't send you out on a gurney. Trust me. I don't want my first meeting with my little brother to end with you bleeding._ "

There was a moment of silence; it wasn't like Joutarou could respond with such thick slime over his mouth and nose. But it was clear he was considering his words, his fierce eyes never leaving Joaquín's. Both of them knew that it would be stupid to continue fighting, knowing full well that neither would stop until one of them blacked out by the other's hand. With no other options and needing to breathe, Joutarou nodded.

" _Thank you, bro_ ," sighed Joaquin. Preciosa approached and wiped off the slime off of him before unlocking the cell for Joaquín. Joutarou was about to say something, but he was silenced by a hug from his shorter, older brother.

" _Yare yare daze_ _,_ " was all the disgruntled teen could say, not reciprocating it.

Joaquín then let go so that Holly could hug her son. "Oh, Joutarou," she happily cried out. "I'm so glad you came out! You had us all worried."

" _God, you're such an annoying bitch_ ," muttered Joutarou.

"Okay," she answered back happily as if she didn't hear the insult. Joaquin didn't know how to react to either of them. Was this commonplace behavior between them?

"Hey, watch your mouth," shouted Joseph in admonishment. "That's your mother you're talking to! And Holly!" He turned to his daughter, still upset. "How can you just stand there with a smile on your face?! You're his mother!"

"Okay," repeated Holly, seeming not to care. Her son's safety was all that mattered to her. Though Joaquín agreed with his grandfather, he couldn't help but smile. They did love one another. Even if Joutarou was indifferent, he could tell.

After she let go, he turned to his brother and said, " _Hey, I'm curious… how exactly do you know about these evil... no... these 'Stands'?_ "

"Mr. Joestar told us about them when we met him" answered Della before Joaquín could. "But he told us he wasn't born with it. Neither was Jojo, and I'm guessing you as well. "

"Speaking of which,' added Joaquín, turning to his grandfather. "You said an external force might have been behind all this. Do you really know what it is?"

Joseph said nothing as he looked pensively at his grandchildren, both curious as to why they had Stands in the first place. He then took out several pictures from his coat. "These pictures are the reason. And what they hold has everything to do with our lineage; the Joestar bloodline." Everyone but Mohamed gathered to look at them. They were all of an abandoned ship, as well as an open, barnacle-encrusted coffin

"Four years ago, this coffin was discovered off the coast of Africa. The ship's crew that dredged it from the Atlantic were never found. I did not know about it until last year when my Stand manifested. It's in my possession now. And when we analyzed it, we discovered two things about it. First, was that the coffin was over one hundred-years-old. And second, it was the same one found aboard the ship that my grandfather had died on… I know exactly what was in it. And Avdol and I are hunting him down."

"'Him'," Joaquín asked incredulously as he flipped through the photos. "Hold on. You're making this sound like someone was in there. Who could be alive after a hundred years of sleeping under the ocean?"

"He's been plaguing our family since that fateful day George Joestar I adopted him into his home. He has killed every man whose blood is that of the Joestars. His very name has been a curse on our family... You have already seen it, Joaquín ."

Looking back through the pictures, he found it immediately. On one side of the coffin were three silver letters that spelled the name of the man his grandfather was hunting down. A man who would he knew would be tied to his own fate.

 _Dio._


	7. Money

Ch. 7  
Money

NOVEMBER 25TH, 1988  
20:21  
NARITA, JAPAN

"Jojo, are you even listening? And please, change that 'I do not care' attitude of yours."

"Mohamed, I _have_ been paying attention! And what attitude?!"

"Jojo, he means _Joutarou_ , not you."

"Oh, oops. Sorry, Mohamed."

The six were sitting inside a late-night cafe. Before they came here, they had made a brief stop at the Kuujou residence to drop off their belongings. _Such a beautiful home_ , Joaquín remembered thinking. _And rather spacious_. _I can see myself living in a place like that, but I'm gonna have to get used to the lack of suburban noise and time zone change. Both Japan and New York are 14 hours apart, after all._

His grandfather and Mohamed were further explaining Stands to everyone as they drank coffee. While he, Della and his mother were showing a keen interest, Joutarou was looking outside the window, barely attentive. It was a bit annoying, true, but Joaquín knew he meant nothing by it. If anything, it looked like it was taking a bit for Joutarou to fully process this.

 _The poor kid just awakened his Stand a few days ago, and now he's being introduced not only to his brother and more spirits, but also some grudge against a century-old vampire. If I were him, I'd feel overloaded, too._

"I don't know who you are, nor do I care," said Joutarou. Joaquín took note of how surprisingly fluent his English was, though it was obvious that it wasn't his first language. "But I think you're the one with the attitude, Avdol. And as for you, _jijii_ , do you really expect me to believe this 'vampire' guy Dio rose from the ocean to hunt us after dying a hundred years ago? That's a ridiculous story."

"Well, at the same time," began Mohamed with a smile, "the common fact that we each have 'evil spirits' would be an astounding thing to believe, would it not?" Joutarou stood silent. He did have a point. Being exposed to both _hamon_ and Stands before now, Joaquín was far more inclined to believe in the supernatural. But his brother? It must be mind-blowing. He can only hope he doesn't short circuit from all this information.

"You can choose to believe what you want," said Joseph as he pulled out an expensive Polaroid camera from his coat, "but by the end of tonight, you just might change your viewpoint of things. You're all about to see just how I learned about Dio's resurgence and why we're both hunting him." He then set the camera down and raised his hand, Hermit Purple wrapped around it. Without hesitation, he brought it down in a chop, breaking the camera.

And in the same instant he broke it, an undeveloped picture came out, which he caught. Everyone was shocked as he spoke again. "You see that, Joutarou? _That_ was my own Stand. It can create thoughtographic images on film. Visions of distant places, distant people…" He looked begrudgingly at the remains of his camera. "All at the expense of 30,000 yen cameras..." Not knowing about yen to USD exchange rates, it sounded rather expensive.

One of the waiters, having heard something break, approached them and asked concernedly, " _I-Is everything okay over here?_ "

" _It's nothing to worry about_ ," answered Joaquín politely. " _Go about your business, please._ "

"Have you just tried to lightly tap it," asked Della, who received a confused look as an answer. She then pulled out her own, less expensive camera and set it down. "Try it again, but just don't break it." And so, his grandfather did it again with less force than before. He got the desired result of a photograph coming out without smashing it. If his red face wasn't a clear sign of his complete embarrassment, Joaquín didn't know what was.

Joseph cleared his throat and continued. "A-Anyway, once this picture develops, you will see the very thing that will seal your fate. And yours, Joaquín. But before I show you, let me ask you both something. And you, Holly. Have you all looked at your backs recently?"

"No."

"No."

"Yes." These were the answers given by Joutarou, Holly, and Joaquín respectively. He had a feeling he knew where he was getting at. His birthmark. That smudge near the left side of his neck that looked like a star. Joseph turned to them and confirmed his suspicions when he lowered his coat and turtleneck. There was the same mark on him. His mother and brother both looked surprised. Taking a brief moment to pull down a bit of his brother's uniform, he saw the star on him as well.

" _You've got one too_ ," said Joaquín in surprise before turning back to his grandfather. "So this _is_ a hereditary thing, right?"

"Yes," said his grandfather. "I asked my mother a long time ago about it, and she told me how my own father had it on his back. From what I can understand, all members of the Joestar family have that very birthmark..." Now he looked worried, almost afraid of what he might have to say next. His hand was trembling with the photograph.

" _Abuelito_... show us who's on there."

With some brief reluctance, he gave it to him. Everyone gathered around to look at it and saw a man almost enveloped in darkness. He was muscular, his bare back to the camera. He could make out the same star near his nape, and a nasty scar all around his neck. When he saw his face he went pale and dropped the photo.

"Jojo?" Della put a hand on his shoulder. "Jojo, what is it? Have you seen him?"

"Yes." How could he forget? The wild blonde hair, the glaring amber eye... "It's him. The man I've been seeing in my dreams... Is this... Dio?"

Joseph looked disturbed to hear he had been dreaming about him. "Yes, but... Have you really been seeing him in your sleep? You should have told me, Joaquín. What were these dreams about?"

"I've been having them for four years," he said shakily before waving him off. "But we can talk about that later… How does that monster have that birthmark on him? You told us he was adopted."

"I did… But I have a theory as to why he has it… According to my grandmother, my grandfather died at sea thanks to Dio in 1889. I don't know the specifics, and neither did she, but that man was nothing but a head then. The ship they were on exploded, leaving both her and my parents as the survivors. He should have died in the explosion. But this picture disproves that. Every picture of Dio showed him alive and well, with a new body turned to the camera… bearing a scar on his neck and that star!

"That's how I knew how this son of a bitch survived! He had stolen it! From the neck down of that bastard is the body that belonged to Jonathan Joestar!"

A chill seemed to run through everyone, but none colder than Joaquín. He looked at the picture again, or rather, at his neck. He finally realized what those dreams meant. He was dreaming about his ancestor, through his eyes. And the third one, the one where this Dio was nothing but a head... _That was Jonathan's last moment alive before his body was taken._ Now Joaquín was filled with anger. His ancestor died to stop him, but now his body was being used as his own. He would never forgive such disrespect.

"One thing is for certain: somewhere in this world, he's hiding. And he's plotting. As to what, I can't be certain. But if he knows the Joestars are alive, then he will undoubtedly target us. Whatever his plans are, we have to find and put an end to him." Joseph sighed and finished his coffee. "It's been four years since his awakening. And we three have gotten our Stands within the last year and today. It's thanks to him that we do. At least, I assume so."

"Our powers are what others call 'ESP'", added Mohamed. "While I was born with my Stand, yours all awoke through a link with Dio's... no, Jonathan's body. The awakening of his Stand has brought about yours as if it were some curse."

Joaquín looked thoughtfully at the picture again before asking, "What happens if we kill Dio? Do our Stands just… go away?"

"That I do not know. Our Stands are a part of us. They will not leave us until the day we die. We will have to kill him to find out."

"And can you tell where he is?"

"No. Like his heart, Dio's surroundings are enveloped in darkness. It is impossible to discern his whereabouts."

It was as he thought. They didn't have any other solid information besides the fact that Dio was alive. But that wouldn't stop him from accompanying them. If this man was a threat to his family, then he would do everything in his power to find and slay him.

Joseph paid for the coffees, and the group prepared to leave. "Sorry Holly," he apologized to his daughter, "but Avdol and I are going to be staying in Japan for a while. Do you mind-"

"Not at all," happily replied his daughter. "You and your friend are more than welcome to stay as long as you'd like at my home." Holly then looked at her eldest son and Della. "The same goes for you both as well. I can give you one of the guest rooms."

"If it's okay," said Della, "I wanna share a room with Joaquín. I don't wanna take up a room all my own."

"Oh, certainly. Go right ahead, dear." Joaquín silently thanked Della. Having someone like her sleep with him really helped. Though now that he thought about that, he wondered how many guest rooms were in this house, had she decided not to bunk with him.

As they all walked out the door, he stopped slightly behind them and unconsciously touched the back of his neck. Everything he had heard was still fresh on his mind. There was someone out there, a vampire, who had brought his family years of misery. And now that he was back, his family was in danger again. Turning to his younger brother, he caught him mimicking his action. He wondered if he was thinking the same thing as him:

 _Where is this madman now? And what is he up to?_

~+JO*JO+~

"Hm... Again... That feeling again... I felt it just now... As if someone were watching me...

"...

"I was right... One of Jonathan's descendants... My body knows... It's sending some sort of spiritual signal to them...

"I was weakened on that day, reduced to a mere head... Had it not been for Jonathan's body, weak as it was... I never would have survived...

"But this body has established a link with his descendants... They know of my existence... This new power achieved with his body, the Stand... It has an influence on them... Advantages, setbacks... they are both faces of the same coin...

"Fine... If this is destiny, then so be it... I shall rid myself of this link...

"I shall eradicate the dredges of the Joestar lineage once and for all..!"

~+JO*JO+~

There were no nightmares last night. Was it the calming atmosphere of the oriental home surrounded by such serene foliage? The lack of blaring horns and street lights in his eyes? Or was it, perhaps, Della, who chose not to take an extra futon and sleep in Joaquín's that night?" He wasn't too certain this time. When the two slept at her apartment, he knew it was her presence that helped him sleep peacefully. But here, in another country, another environment, he couldn't tell.

What he could tell, however, was that he found it adorable the way Della was sleeping against him. Her long, messy hair had been gently brushed aside so he could see her face. She looked so serene, her rest seemingly dreamless. He could hear her gentle breathing, see the rise and fall of her body, feel the hand that laid undisturbed around him, and the head that was positioned on his chest. Joaquín wondered if she did that so she could hear his heartbeat. The thought of that made him smile.

But that smile soon faded as everything from last night came back to him. The inescapable destiny surrounding that man, Dio. _I'm gonna have to face him_ , he thought as he took the hand of his friend in his. _And Della will be involved. I know she will… But there's nothing I can do to stop that. She's not gonna let me go on my own. Nobody, not even_ Abuelito _, can stop her… It's like she's my own Stand; a guardian angel. Maybe I'm fated to have more than just one guardian. And maybe I'm fated to be one myself._

 _Della… I promise I'll protect you. I won't let you get hurt._

Quite by accident, he ended up saying this aloud in a whisper. It must have been too loud because Della let out a disturbed noise. After a stretch, she opened her eyes to the sight of her friend in her arms. "Good morning, Jojo," she said with a sleepy smile. "Did you say something?"

"Good morning." And his smile returned. "Nah, I was talking to myself, that's all. Hey, I think Mom's making us breakfast. It might be different than what we normally have in New York, though."

"I have faith in her cooking." The two got up and changed with their backs turned to one another for modesty. Joaquín put on his signature style of clothes: his workout shirt, jeans and gloves. Della, meanwhile, wore a red tunic with a black, long-sleeved undershirt and leggings beneath. As per usual, her hair was tied back, though he liked it more when it was free. Neither of them wore shoes, as was customary in a Japanese home. When they went to the tea room, Holly had already prepared them breakfast.

She looked up from her morning newspaper and waved to them. "Ah, Joaquín, Della! Good morning! Come, I made some eggs and some fried fish!" The two knelt around the small table she had set up and began to eat. She really was good at cooking, even if it was a small dish. "How did you two sleep? Good? I know it's not like in America."

"It was the best sleep of my life, actually," answered Joaquín. "We both slept pretty great." He looked around and noticed that there were no other plates besides theirs. "Hey, where is everyone?"

"Joutarou's heading to school. They have classes on Saturday here. Papa and Avdol are out taking a walk. They won't be back for a while. By the way, I've been meaning to ask, how have things been in New York? Were you raised well?"

"Um... kind of. I mean, we weren't rich, but my family survived. Dad taught me how to defend myself and _Abuelita_ taught me how to cook. I can live on my own, but... I wanna have a family, you know? It was painful to think that I was alone, without either of them."

"Oh, sweetheart… You have us now. I'm so happy to have you back in my life. And Joutarou's happy to have an older brother!" Somehow, he knew she was right, even if his brother wouldn't admit it. "So how did you two meet?"

The conversation shifted all over the place, the mother-son pair slowly learning about each other. Della was asked about her life as well by Holly so as not to feel left out. They both learned about Holly's childhood in New York and how she came to marry Kuujou Sadao. He was the most popular jazz musician in Japan, and his success was what bought Holly and him this large home.

"Of course, I never married him for the money," she said with a smile. "Besides, I have plenty of that already without him!"

"So where exactly is he," asked Della curiously.

"Oh, he and his crew are on tour. I'm not much of a touring girl, but I do go see him every now and then at his shows. I just prefer staying at home. Besides, someone needs to watch over the home and Joutarou."

He didn't want to stay on the topic of his stepfather for too long. There was one thing he wanted to know. And Holly was the only one who knows better than anyone else. With a sigh of trepidation, he asked her, "Hey, Mom? Um… I wanted to talk about Dad for a second. _Abuelito_ told me about how you met, but… I wanna know… why did you leave him? And why was I left with just him?"

It wasn't an easy topic at all. And the last thing anyone would want to talk about. But he just needed to know. _It's been 22 years, I have a right to know_ , Joaquín thought defiantly.

Holly took a sip of her tea and sighed sadly. "Carlos cheated on me with another man."

Joaquín did a double take. "HE WHAT?!"

"Yes. Now… I don't have a problem with homosexuality-"

"Neither do I, but I've never seen him with another man!"

"Of course you wouldn't. He was secretive about that lifestyle. His mother never knew. And I didn't know until near the end of my pregnancy. I had no problem with that, but it was the secrecy, the betrayal… I felt hurt and angry in a way that's quite unlike me… That anger made me scared. I didn't want to take it out on you and give you an awful childhood. Which was why when you were born, I gave you to him. And I made him promise never to tell you…"

It was a lot to take in. All his life, he had never seen his father show any interest in another man. It just didn't seem like him. He looked at his mother with wide, eyes and asked, "Did he say who it was? Dad's had a lot of friends."

"Some man in New Jersey," she said, taking a second of silence to recall his name. "Yariel, I think."

He almost fell out of his chair, Della grabbing Joaquín's arm and pulling him back before he did. He was not expecting a double shock. Yariel was his father's boxing buddy, a man who he would go over his house to watch championship bouts. He remembered him from when he went to New Jersey when he was little. And now that he thought about his thin, rather girlish appearance, and how his father would always simply called him Yari, he couldn't believe how oblivious he was.

"Oh my god... _Him_?" He sounded rather thunderstruck, which made Holly's smile return in the form of a giggle. " _Dios mío_ , that explains everything."

"I forgive him, though. He may have broken my heart, but… even now, I could never hate Carlos. He's always been a kind person. To me and to his peers. And I hope, wherever he is up there, he's spreading that kindness with everyone else."

This entire time, Joaquín had taken note of his mother's personality. No matter what she spoke about, she always had a positive vibe. She managed to lift spirits and bring smiles on anyone without even trying, Nothing seemed to keep her down. Holly was strong. Plus, she cared about everyone, no matter how little she knew them or what history they shared. And it shone through when they discussed his father. Even after everything, she held no ill-will towards him. She still cared about him.

 _She_ did _say she still loved him yesterday._

Before he could say anything else, there came a strangled cry of "Jojo, look!" It was Della, and she was pointing behind him. Turning around to the open view of the garden, he saw something out there. Hidden behind a tree, there was a figure with a pair of binoculars staring directly at them.

 _We're being spied on._

"Stay here, both of you," commanded Joaquín as he made a mad dash outside. He jumped into his shoes and made his way out to where the binoculars were peeking out of, which had disappeared. He didn't know whether it was some avid stalker of his stepfather or not, but he was going to kick their ass. It didn't take long for Joaquín to reach a bright clearing in the woods. He stopped in his tracks, looking all around for anyone hiding.

" _Come on out, you bastard_ ," he muttered in Japanese. " _Why the fuck were you spying on us?_ "

There was no hesitation for whoever he was chasing to answer. " _I have my reasons. But don't worry. I'm not here to fight you._ " A Japanese male. Joaquín imagined he was in his thirties due to how mature he sounded. It didn't matter, though, because he couldn't pinpoint where his voice was coming from. It was above, he knew that. But it was as if it came from everywhere and nowhere. " _I was sent here to confirm a few things for my benefactor._ "

" _Who do you work for? Show yourself so I can kick your ass!_ "

There was rustling up above. Preciosa immediately manifested and gazed up into the trees. Through his Stand's odd-looking lens, he scanned through the leaves for any disturbance. He had to be up there. But there was just nothing… _Could it be that… Is he a Stand user?_

His suspicions were confirmed when he laughed and said, " _Are you trying to look for me with your stupid-looking Stand? Well, good luck with that one, kid, because my Stand lets me hide any time I want. And it's quick. Even if you found me, how would you catch me? The answer is you can't. Nobody has_ _._ "

" _Nobody, huh_ ," asked Joaquín with curiosity. He bent down and picked up a stone, handing it to Preciosa. " _I doubt that. If your as fast as you say you are, then let's play a game. You know how the cup game works?_ "

" _Uh, yes_ _,"_ he said. " _What're you getting at?_ "

" _Jump around and stop at any tree you choose. And I'll pick out which one you stopped at. If I'm right, then you gotta tell me who you're working for. And I might just consider sparing you._ "

" _That's a fair deal. But you'll lose regardless._ " The invisible man jumped from tree to tree, shaking the leaves all around him. They were moving so suddenly that it seemed like they were being disturbed all at once.

 _This guy wasn't joking_ , thought an impressed Joaquín. _If it wasn't for Preciosa, I couldn't find him at all._

Eventually, the man stopped and said, " _Choose. Cause if you're wrong, I'll come down and kick your ass instead._ _"_

" _I thought you said you didn't want to fight_ ," asked Joaquín with a raised eyebrow.

" _You're right. My Stand doesn't exactly increase my strength. But either way, there has to be a price for getting this wrong. Now pick!_ " Joaquín thought for a moment before pointing to one of the trees beside him. " _Are you sure? This is the tree you want?_ "

" _I wouldn't pick it if I wasn't certain. That's the tree you're on._ "

The Stand user made a sound like a buzzer. " _An X for wrong! You chose wrong, and now, you're-_ "

He didn't have time to finish his threat. Preciosa swiftly threw the stone in his hand at the treetop he had chosen. There was a crack and a loud cry of pain as something came tumbling down from the trees. He couldn't see it, but in a moment, it faded into view. It looked like a large green lizard with a fin on its head and back. Its eyes had cent symbols for irises. Tattooing its chest was a massive dollar sign, and its shoulders and hands were adorned with the yen symbol. Its mouth was open to reveal a human face.

The man was holding his swelling, square jaw in pain, looking fearfully at Joaquín. " _How did you catch me? I know I lied, but how did you know where I was at?_ "

" _My Stand's got the best vision around. Preciosa found you after the third jump and locked onto you. He could tell which tree you landed on due to how much it shook afterwards. That's how he could see which one you were hiding in._ " He approached the man and lifted him by his back fin. " _This is a very interesting Stand. I never seen one you could wear. Look cool, too. What's it called?_ "

" _M-Money_ ," he uttered.

" _Fitting name. Now keep your word. Who do you work for?_ "

" _O-Okay… I was spying on you for D-Dio…_ "

His blood ran cold for the second time in two days. That name again. Dio. The man who haunted his lineage. Sending a subordinate to spy on him meant only one thing: he already knew about the remaining Joestars. They weren't safe. Joaquín's hands trembled in fury. _How dare he send someone to invade his mother's home?_ Abuelito _better find out where he's hiding fast, cause I'm ready to hunt him down on my own and tear him apart for this._

The man he was holding saw his rising fury, shaking in fear of what would come next. He spoke in a trembling voice. " _L-Look, all he said for me to do was spy. I don't have to attack you guys. H-He paid me to do it. How could I say n-no? He's a powerful man. A-And rich! Plus, the economy sucks right now. I'm doing this so my kids and I can survive._ " He looked at him and saw that his face held no lies in them. He would have felt sorry for him had he not accepted a bribe from a dangerous madman.

" _S-S-So a_ _-are you gonna keep your word?_ "

" _My word_ ," he asked dangerously.

" _Y_ _es! You said you'd spare me!_ "

" _I said I'd consider it_ ," corrected Joaquín sharply. " _And now that you told me who you work for, I made my decision. Do you want my answer?_ " The Stand user nodded in pleading desperation. " _The opposite of that._ " He threw him at Preciosa, who immediately pummeled into him with his usual cry of " _¡TOMATOMATOMA!_ " He then grabbed the man by his Stand's tail and began spinning him around.

" _STO-O-OP_ ," he cried out amidst the spins. " _LET ME GO-O-O!_ "

Figuring he had enough, he obliged. He let go of his tail and sent the screaming man flying. To where, he didn't care, but it was definitely nowhere near his mother's home.

Joaquín was now left alone, his Stand remaining by his side. The more he thought about Dio, the more he wondered just how powerful he was. Everything about him seemed to be shrouded in mystery and dread. He was a vampire, that much he knew, and he had several servants in his prime. By now, after having been awake for four years, he was bound to have amassed an army. But if he was really this powerful, and if he had his own Stand, why would he need one?

Just what was he plotting? Was it just the extinction of the Joestars? World domination? There had to be a better reason than just that. No man just wants revenge or ruling the world. For an immortal man such as Dio, there had to be more. And Joaquín wanted to know what it was. But that's a thought for another day. He just wanted to calm down and think about anything but him. Joaquín called back Preciosa and made his way back home, wondering if his mother's tea was as good as her cooking.

~NIJIMURA SENKICHI: HOSPITALIZED FOR A FEW WEEKS~

* * *

STAND TIME

STAND USER: NIJIMURA SENKICHI (虹村 千吉)

STAND NAME: MONEY (お金 (マネー))

POWER: E, SPEED: A, RANGE: E, DURABILITY: D, PRECISION: E, POTENTIAL: C

ABILITY: Money is unique in that it is a wearable Stand, taking the shape of a basilisk lizard. It can allow its user to blend into the environment, taking on surrounding colors and textures the way an octopus can. It is almost impossible to discern its whereabouts, as the user is camouflaged as well. It also grants its user incredible speed, enough to run across small bodies of water. Despite these feats, the user is not given any additional strength, only minimal defense, from wearing his Stand.


	8. Straight Through The Heart

Ch. 8  
Straight Through The Heart

NOVEMBER 26th, 1988  
10:13  
NARITA, JAPAN

Joaquín had brought Mohamed and his grandfather back to the tea room the moment they came back. He and Della told them everything that happened and assured them that they were all safe and unharmed. Naturally, Joseph felt disturbed by what he heard. "Joaquín, you know what this means, don't you," he asked as Mohamed sat in silence making tea for them all.

"Of course I do" he replied without hesitation. "It means Dio knows. He knows about us knowing he's awake. Do you think it has something to do with that link to Jonathan's body?"

"It has to be. Every picture of him I took, I could feel him staring back. And it's not because he's looking directly at us, but rather something more real. Like he's really in front of us."

That brought up a chilling thought. "So if he wanted to, could Dio look into where we are?"

"Undoubtedly. If I'm able to look into where he is, it's safe to assume he could do the same to us." He secretly hoped he would have said something else, but Joaquín knew he was right. It wasn't just a coincidence that Dio would send a spy the day after he learned about him. He had to have felt them all looking at him through a picture. Their bodies were linked thanks to Jonathan Joestar's blood. It was how their Stands came to be, so being able to find where they were and act was not unusual at all.

That being said, Dio was bound to send another spy to their home. And God only knew if they would be as mercifully weak as Money's user. They had to be prepared for an attack. But there was no real need to. There were four Stand users under this roof ( _well, three since Joutarou's at school_ ), and all of them could fend off anyone who dared come near them. Even if he didn't have the others, Joaquín would bravely take them all on himself. He would gladly lay his life down for his family.

"Mr. Avdol," said Della as she accepted some tea and drank, "I know this might be a bit of a stretch, but do you guys have anyone else who can help us? Any Stand user we can call to come guard the house?"

"Unfortunately, we do not, Ms. Brown," said Mohamed formally. "Stand users are more often than not secretive about their abilities. They do not show their Stands unless they have to, and we have no way of discerning one from a simple bystander. As of lately, we have been unable to locate any."

"How are you able to find them?"

"We look into any suspicious reports of supernatural occurrences and trace them to whoever is involved in them. I am unfortunately disappointed to say that the ones we have encountered in New York are not friendly. Not even the one we have on reserve."

"Reserve?"

"Yes," said Joseph as he was making himself some instant coffee. "He's not exactly evil, but he is a rowdy one. It took Avdol everything he had to capture the bugger. I'd rather save him for emergencies, only because his personality is unpredictable. If he wanted to, he would tear this entire house apart." He then took a sip of his coffee and spat some out in disgust. "Blegh! Geez, the Japanese can't even make coffee right, can they?!"

"Uh, actually that's Americano, Abuelito," said Joaquín with a chuckle. He drank the tea given to him with some mild disgust himself, but he did appreciate it. He felt his nerves slowly calm. _It's j_ _ust like Mom said when I came back. This stuff does help._ He looked up and added, "To be frank, I'm more comfortable with who we have now. I mean, we have two heavy hitters, a fire manipulator and someone who's got vines. We can take on anyone who tries to attack."

It seemed as if that would come sooner than he expected, for there was a brief shriek outside. It was his mother. Both Joseph and Joaquín shot up, the latter bringing out Preciosa with his fists clenched for combat. He was ready to fight again. "Looks like we got more company. You ready, Abuelito?"

"Always," responded his grandfather with fire in his voice.

"Wait, Jojo, Mr. Joestar," hurriedly cried Della as she stood as well. "I don't think there's an intruder here. If there really was, she would have sounded more scared. Don't you think so?" He thought about it for a second and realized she had a point.

"Okay. But who's here though?"

His question was answered when a shoeless Joutarou came into view a few seconds later. He looked rather beat up, his cheek bandaged and his leg wrapped up. His uniform was caked in blood. Carried on his shoulder was another teenager in a green uniform with wavy cardinal red hair, which had a thick fringe hanging on one side. And just like his brother, he was bloody and bruised. Joaquín went pale when he saw their condition.

" _Joutatou, you didn't_ ," said Joaquín in shock.

" _Yeah, I did_ ," dryly responded Joutarou as he set him down.

" _But why the hell did you get into a fight after you just got out of jail?! Are you out of your mind?!_ "

" _He attacked first. This kid swore allegiance to Dio, and he-_ "

" _Wait a minute, Dio?_ " His shock quickly turned to anger and concern that his brother was spied on at his school. " _You mean that bastard sent someone after you in school?_ "

" _Looks like it. He knew you guys were here, too. I_ _brought him back so we could interrogate him. But now that I look at him, I think I might have overdone it._ "

"Don't sweat it, Joutarou," said Joseph moved closer to look over him. He checked his breathing and felt his forehead. "You were simply defending yourself." His brow furrowed and his entire tone changed to somber one. "It's no use. It's too late for us to save him. He'll die within a few days."

Della gasped and Joaquín looked over to his younger could tell he was beside himself, even though he was hiding it. He's got no problem putting people in the hospital, but I know he wouldn't outright kill a man. It's enough to shake any man to the core. Joseph must have sensed this feeling as well, as he continued reassuringly. "This isn't your fault, Joutarou. Look at him. Why do you think this boy would swear allegiance to Dio and come to kill you? He doesn't look evil, does he?

They looked back at the pale teenager. His unconscious face seemed to hold a type of sad loneliness that bullies would take advantage of. There wasn't a single trace of evil on him. _I know we shouldn't judge a book by its cover_ , thought Joaquín, _but I can't see a guy like him working for Dio willingly._

"No," spoke up Joutarou, breaking his brother's thought process. "He doesn't. So why…"

"I know the reason why. And it's right here." Joseph moved the boy's bangs and Joaquín recoiled in disgust. Della let out a gasp of horror. Joutarou's eyes flashed, stunned by what they beheld. Something fleshy was stuck on his head. It looked like a flower bud, digging its disgusting roots into his head. He could have sworn he saw it pulse with a life of its own.

"Holy shit," exclaimed Joaquín.

"What the hell is that," asked Joutarou, keeping his voice steady. "It's like a spider stuck in his head."

"That, everyone, is a flesh bud made from Dio's cells," explained Mohamed. "It pierces straight into this boy's brain. Once implanted, this small flesh bud manipulates its host's mind. It awakens hidden feelings from within, acting as a controller made up of Dio's strongest trait."

"And that trait is charisma," said Joseph in disgust. "The same feeling that made soldiers obey Hitler! The same feeling that makes cultists admire their leaders! This boy admired Dio, and as such, he swore loyalty to him! It was through that bastard's charisma that this innocent boy was controlled and ordered to kill you."

"But it can be removed, right," asked Della hopefully. "Like, surgically removed?"

"No. That flesh bud can't be destroyed via normal means. The brain is delicate. If you try to move that thing, it would injure him. Even my _hamon_ , which could fry this parasite, would end up causing damage."

Joaquín couldn't believe this. His mind raced with so many questions. _Is this really how that fiend is gaining followers? Bribes and manipulation through parasitic charm? How many people are unwillingly serving him because of these flesh buds? What about Money's user? Was he really a willing servant or just some hapless man who Dio implanted his charisma into just for undying loyalty?_ The more he thought about it, the more Joaquín wanted to beat him up for his heinous methods.

Mohamed, who was solemnly looking at the boy, shut his eyes shivered slightly. He raised his head to him and Joutarou and said, "I have not told you both this, but... four months ago... I met Dio."

"You saw him," Joaquín practically shouted.

"Yes. As a fortune-teller, I run my business in a souq called Khan el-Khalili. I met him there one evening under a full moon. He stood quietly at the top of the stairs leading to the second floor of my shop. His gaze was a cold one, almost as if it would chill my heart. I remember him clearly… Golden hair, pale, translucent skin, an inhuman sexual appeal… At that point, I was already acquainted with Mr. Joestar, and he had already relayed to me the story of the man known as Dio.

"There was no denying that the man before me was that same monster, reborn from the Atlantic Ocean."

Joaquín's stomach turned as the Mohamed spoke. He knew he spoke the truth, for that was the perfect description of the undead man that stalked him in his dreams. His beauty was simply too unholy for any mortal man.

"And then… he spoke in such a soft voice… The way one would to a lover. 'You seem to possess an extraordinary ability uncommon amongst ordinary mortal beings, do you not,' he asked me. 'It would please me if you demonstrated it to me.'" He could hear the same voice as well. It almost made him retch. "When he spoke those words, my heart... felt at ease. They were filled with a dangerous tenderness. At that moment, I felt true terror. But that was nothing compared to what happened next."

"W-What happened," asked Della, quaking on the spot. It looks like she had imagined him speaking as well.

"His hair, flowing without a single breeze, grew in length and writhed all about him. Entwined around the very ends were the same flesh buds you see on this boy, ready to take their next host… I could not help but scream as I desperately fled into the night through a nearby window. I dared not to fight him. I was grateful for both my knowledge of Dio, and of the maze-like souq."

There was silence now, save for the radio outside and the soft babbling of water. Joaquín was pale, and Della looked mortified with her hands clasping her mouth. He looked at Joutarou, who was just as horrified as they were, even if he didn't show it. Looking back at Mohamed, he couldn't decide whether to praise him for his escape or feel sorry for experiencing that.

Just recounting the story sent a shiver down Mohamed's body, which did not suit a man like him. "I can only imagine what would have happened had I not ran, I would have been swayed by him and implanted with a flesh bud, just like this boy. My Stand would be under his command."

"I can't imagine fighting you," said Joaquín. "I know I haven't seen your stand in action, but I could tell he's a really powerful one, like mine."

"And like this boy will soon be," added Joseph solemnly, "he would have been dead within a few years from his brain being devoured."

"Dead", exclaimed Della, her wide eyes becoming even more so "But there's gotta be something we could do! We can't just leave him to die!"

Joutarou moved over to the boy and summoned his Stand. "She's right. He's not dead yet. We can save him." He and the purple humanoid that was his Stand knelt beside him, Joutarou grabbing the sides of his face and the Stand reaching for the flesh bud. Everyone but Joaquín cried out in shock.

"Joutarou, don't," exclaimed Joseph.

"Don't touch me, _jijii_ ," he said calmly. "I'm gonna remove this thing from his brain without hurting it. If my Stand has enough accurate movement to catch a bullet in an instant, then I have confidence that it can harmlessly pull this flesh bud out."

"You don't understand! That flesh bud is alive! Don't you see why it's sticking out of his head like that?! It's why not even the best surgeon on Earth can remove it!" And it was when the Stand pinched the bud that one of the burrowed tentacles lashed out and dug right into one of Joutarou's hands. Joaquín could see the pulsing tendril move up into his arm. He looked at his brother and was amazed to see that he wasn't too disturbed by this at all.

Joseph looked even more panicked and practically shouted, "It's going to invade your brain! Damnit, Joutarou, pull away!"

He seemed to be tuning him out. His Stand was slowly trying to pull it out without flinching from both noise and pain. Joaquín couldn't help but admire him. _He's putting his life at risk for someone he never met, someone who swore loyalty to Dio. Maybe he can see that he's innocent, just like me. This kid doesn't deserve to suffer from such an awful fate._ Joutarou was certainly better than he had thought.

All too suddenly, the boy's honey-colored eyes shot open. He looked all around before he rested his gaze on his savior. He slowly hissed, " _Ki... sa... ma..._ " He wasn't too grateful, it seemed, still under the flesh bud's influence.

Joutarou didn't react as he said, " _Don't move, Kakyouin. If I fail, your brain is done for."_ The tentacle, they all noticed, had moved all the way to his cheek now.

"Joutarou, get your hand away," Della yelled. "It's at your face now!" She tried to approach, but Joaquín held her back.

"Della, hold it," he said sternly. "This is my brother who's dealing with this. Look at him. It's so close to his brain, but he hasn't lost his nerve one bit. Neither he or his Stand are shaking." The flesh bud was almost out of the boy named Kakyouin's head. One of Joaquín's hands sparked up with _hamon_ energy. "Here it comes! Throw it over here!"

His Stand finally pulled the writhing flesh bud off with a triumphant cry, ripping out the tentacle that invaded Joutarou's body as well. It then tossed it Joaquín's way. "OVERLOAD," he shouted as he grabbed the fleshy parasite with his sparking hand. Its tentacles made one final desperate attempt to enter him, but they disintegrated before any of them could pierce his skin.

The ordeal had ended. Everyone had breathed a sigh of relief. Joutarou's nameless Stand faded back into him as he stood and began to walk off. Before he could leave, however, Kakyouin sat up and turned to him. His eyes, once filled with wickedness, seemed softer now.

" _W-Why_ ," he asked with a calmer, yet confused voice. " _Why did you save me... and risk your life to do so?_ "

Joutarou stood in silence at the entryway, not looking at him. He then said, " _Well, not even I know, really..._ " And he walked off into the garden, leaving the boy confused and somewhat unsure of how to react to that answer. Joaquín knew why he did it, and it made him smile.

"You big softie," he muttered as he looked out to where Joutarou left.

"Overload," asked his grandfather with a chuckle.

"Well, it sounds better than 'Overdrive'. And it makes sense."

"No, it sounds stupid."

~+JO*JO+~

The boy, they discovered later that day, was named Kakyouin Noriaki. While his mother insisted that he shouldn't be harassed with any questions, Noriaki didn't mind answering any of them. The biggest question, and first, was how he had even met Dio. As it turned out, he and his family had traveled to Egypt for a vacation along the Nile three months ago. When they met, he was persuaded to be his friend. Noriaki was a lonely boy whose only friend was his Stand. And that monster took advantage of that fact.

" _I was absolutely afraid of him_ ," he said as he adjusted his orange, cherry-shaped earrings. " _But the way he spoke, it soothed my heart. And I let him control me. I let myself bow to him... I can never forgive myself for that._ "

" _Well, we forgive you_ ," said Holly as she helped to bind up his head. Her Japanese was just as seamless as Joaquín expected for someone who lived in Japan half her life. " _Papa and the others are looking for that man right now… There, all done! Now, you should stay the night and get some rest. Today must have been really tough for you._ " She then turned to her father. "Papa, can you set up one of the guest rooms with a futon?"

"Me," asked Joseph incredulously, as though he were asked to shingle a roof. "Why do I have to do that? Besides, sleeping on the floor is awful!" He patted the _tatami_ they sat on to drive his point. It was sturdy, but Joaquín didn't mind at all. The old man crossed his arms, practically pouting. "Holly, I want that futon out of my room and replaced with a real bed."

Holly's face turned serious for a moment as she too patted the _tatami_ flooring. "No. You're in Japan, Papa, so you have to get used to the way the Japanese do things! And please, while we're here, call me Seiko."

"What?!"

"Holly comes from the word 'holy', which translates to 'seinaru' here in Japan. My friends ended up calling me Seiko and I just fell in love with the name!"

Everyone except Joutarou (he was used to his mother pushing this on others) laughed at Joseph's flabbergasted fury. She indeed wouldn't acknowledge him even as he practically screamed her name. When the humor died down, Joaquín had time to think about the boy's words. Noriaki said he met Dio in Egypt as well, a month apart from Mohamed. This is was not some coincidence. Dio might still be there, but they wouldn't know until they got a proper lead on him.

Later that night, Joaquín decided to spend some time with his brother. They didn't do much except walk around in the street and talk. But in the short time they spent together, Joaquín learned several things about his brother. He was into sumo wrestling and hip hop, as well as detective shows. " _Columbo is my favorite_ ," he said. He also had a geeky side to him; the books he kept in his room were all either mystery novels or about marine life. Joaquín suggested he take up a career as a marine biologist.

This earned him a rare smile.

It was on their way home that his suspicions about his stoic personality were true when Joutarou was asked about them. He didn't mind.

" _I never thought it was necessary to show my emotions. I still feel them. Happiness, anger. I just don't really like showing it. I don't like being an open book, and because of that, everyone thinks I'm this punk that doesn't care. I want them to think that. But I know I'm not really that bad of a guy, despite doing some questionable things. Like beating up punks or stiffing restaurants that serve awful food that's not worth the price._ "

" _Or smoking_ ," said Joaquín reproachfully. As if to answer, he pulled one out of his pocket and lit it up. " _Those things will kill you, you know that, right?_ "

He was met with a shrug. " _You can shrug now, but in the future, all that's gonna catch up to you. Especially when it concerns your stoicism. It might affect your personal life. Imagine you make your own family. Are you gonna keep up that wall over your emotions your whole life? That's gonna come bite you hard in the ass. One day, you need to change before that happens. Now I'm not saying to be as outgoing as me, no, but... Just consider other people, you know?_ "

Joutarou stood silent. And this time, Joaquín couldn't tell what he was thinking. He hoped he would consider that bit of brotherly advice. They ended their conversation there as they returned back home. He made sure that he would kill his cigarette before going in. Just as they were both turning in for the night, Joutarou stopped his older brother by his guest room and looked down at him.

" _You know, I'm not sure if Mom said this, but… I'm glad to have a brother now._ "

" _She did. And I am too, Joutarou._ " And he smiled up at him as the two went into their respective rooms. Della was already fast asleep, the blanket of their futon open for him to slip into. Joaquín wasted no time doing so. It was a tiring day, but it was by no means boring at all. In fact, it was exciting. Sure, Dio was sending deadly spies after them, but he felt a thrill knowing he could meet fight such interesting foes and protect his family and friends in doing so. Joaquín could only imagine just who he would send next.

With a yawn, he shut his eyes and prepared for whatever the next day brought.

~+JO*JO+~

The next morning was odd.

Joseph was walking around the house calling for his daughter, complaining about being given Joutarou's pants. Joutarou himself was heading back to the school to apologize for the wreck he caused (" _I think I destroyed the west wing during our fight._ "). Neither of these things was odd. What _was_ , though, is that for some odd reason, Holly wasn't around to give her son a good-bye kiss or scold her father for not calling her "Seiko" as she mentioned the night before. Even odder was the lack of a smell of breakfast hanging in the air.

Joaquín knew something was wrong the moment he woke up. The whole house had a foreboding silence to it. He looked around through every room to see if she didn't stop by to put something away. She was nowhere to be seen. When he turned around one corner, he saw something in the middle of the wooden floor that made his blood chill. A lone spoon. It was by the entrance of the kitchen. Someone was in there, and something had happened. Joaquín didn't want to enter in fear of what he would see next.

But he had to.

He slowly approached and looked inside. He was greeted to the sight of the fridge open, several pans and utensils strewn across the floor… and his mother passed out among the clutter.

"MOM, NO," Joaquín screamed as he ran to his mother's side. He heard four pairs of footsteps running to the sound of his scream as he lifted her up into his arms. He was shocked to feel that her whole body felt burning hot. _A fever_ , he wondered with panic. But _how?! She was okay the night before! Sure, she was pale, but aside from that, she showed no signs of one! No burning or shallow breaths… So why is she unconscious?!_

Taking a closer look at his mother, he noticed what looked like thorns, leaves, and raspberries along her neck.

"W-What is this...?" He laid her on her stomach and pulled the back of her shirt and jacket down. Her back was covered by this mysterious growth. Joaquín tried to pull them off, but he saw that his hand went through. _Incorporeal... This could only mean… But…_ "No... Impossible... This is-"

"Mrs. Holly's Stand," finished Mohamed in a tense voice. He, Della, his brother, and his grandfather were standing at the door. Della and Joseph looked close to tears. Joutarou looked like he was ready to break something. "She has manifested one as well... I only thought that, because you three men were the ones influenced by Dio's body, and Mrs. Holly showed no signs, we had no call for concern."

"No," said Joseph in a shaky voice. "We knew. We just didn't want to worry."

"But she is a Joestar as well... There was no way she wouldn't have developed one. However, a Stand is controlled by its user's spiritual energy. Their fighting instinct. Mrs. Holly is a pure soul. She cannot withstand Dio's curse. Which is why her Stand has turned against her." He backed away slightly, knowing the next words he would say would be devastating for them all. "If she continues to suffer like this… she will die."

Della let out a mixture between a gasp and a sob, burying herself in Joseph's chest. Joaquín set his mother down, his hands shaking, fury bubbling inside him. All he could think about was Dio. It was his fault his family had suffered for over a century, his fault his family's Stands came to be. His fault that his mother, his sweet, pure-hearted mother, was now suffering. She had just come back into life, and now there was a chance that, like his father and grandmother, he was going to lose her.

That thought alone made him cry out in anguish and fury. Joaquín had never felt so much hatred for someone in his life, not even for his father's killer. He wanted to find this man and outright kill him. To make him suffer like his mother was. And he knew he would never rest soundly until the deed was done.

There was a long silence. Everyone's eyes were both on his mother and on him, who sat on his knees and was shaking in anger. Nobody moved or spoke in an attempt to calm him. It would not have helped him. After a moment, Joaquín's shaking ceased, but not his anger. He stood up, and when he spoke to his grandfather, his voice came out low and deadly. " _Abuelito_ Joseph... Tell me we need to find Dio... Tell me we need to kill that son of a bitch to help my mother..."

His grandfather, who had wiped his eyes and was controlling his own rage, nodded and shakily said, "Yes. We kill Dio, we undo his curse. But we _still_ don't know where he is. Every one of my psychic photographs shows the same thing. We tried using computers to analyze the background, but it's nothing but darkness. We just don't have the means to properly see where he is."

Something clicked in Joaquín's brain. What could see better than a computer? With a frantic tone in his voice, he cried out, "Quick! Get me a pen and paper! And bring one of those photos of Dio!" Joseph nodded and left for a moment before bringing everything he needed. Joaquín took the photo and summoned Preciosa. Utilizing his telescopic eyes, his Stand's sight zoomed into the darkness, looking all around the photo for any clue that would give away that monster's position.

After a few seconds, he could make out an odd shape. Something tiny and insect-like. "I see a fly! Here!" He handed the pen and paper to his Stand, who placed the paper on the nearby table and began to draw. One eye was on the drawing and the other on the picture. Everyone had gathered around, looking on in amazement at how quick and detailed his fly was being drawn. When he was nearly done, Mohamed suddenly realized something.

"Wait a minute, I recognize that fly!" He left the kitchen and returned a moment later with an encyclopedia. Mohamed flipped through the pages and landed on the one he desired, just as Preciosa finished. He pointed it out to everyone to see. "This is it! The Nile We-We fly! Or rather, the Aswan We-We fly. You can tell by its streaked legs. After the Aswan High Dam was built, the species spread and became a pest... That means-"

"He's still in Egypt, close to Aswan," slowly finished Joaquín, his fury washing away by a wave of determination. "We got him..."

" _You said he's still in Egypt? When do you leave? I wish to join you all._ "

They turned to the kitchen doorway to find Noriaki standing there, head still wrapped and back in his cleaned, green uniform.

" _Kakyouin_ ," muttered Joutarou. " _You want to join us? But why?_ "

The teenager looked at him silently for a moment before his wide mouth broke out into a smile. " _Well, not even I know, really._ " Having his words echoed back at Joutarou simply made him scoff. " _But I suppose it's because you saved my life. Joining your group would be my way of paying my debt to you... I want to help you find and put an end to Dio. Nobody deserves to go through what I have._ "

" _Agreed_ ," said Joaquín, who was glad to have a new ally. He then turned to his grandfather and asked, "When should we leave, _Abuelito_?"

"Tomorrow," he quickly replied as he lifted his daughter into his arms. "I have some calls to make. I'm going to book us all a flight to Egypt. Now that we know where Dio is, there's no point in dawdling anymore... And while we're gone, I'll have doctors here caring for Holly around the clock."

"Before we depart," began Mohamed, "there is one small matter we must attend to. And that is Joutarou's Stand. While it is not of the utmost importance, I feel that having a nameless Stand will bring about bad luck."

Joaquín looked at his brother, who looked as if he was waiting for an opportunity to name him. But how would he name him? _What_ would he name him? He was certain Joutarou was wondering the same thing as well. Their answer came in the form of Mohamed pulling out a deck of cards from within his robes. He knew what they were. The cards of fate: tarot cards. Wordlessly, Joutarou pulled out one from the middle of the deck. It was not one of those he received his fortune back in New York.

"The Star. A symbol of hope, courage, and personal transformation. You and your Stand shall grow together as one in the journey to come, becoming stronger than you could ever imagine. Henceforth, I christen your Stand…

"Star Platinum!"

 _Star Platinum and Preciosa. Brothers in arms for two brothers by blood. You better prepare yourself, Dio. We're coming after you._

~KAKYOUIN NORIAKI: REFORMED~


	9. The Heat Is On

Ch. 9  
The Heat Is On

NOVEMBER 28TH, 1988  
13:10  
NARITA, JAPAN

"Her Stand is still on her back… For now…"

Joaquín was standing beside the entrance of his home, alongside Mohamed and Noriaki. They were waiting outside the Kuujou residence, watching as several cars and men in suits walk briskly past them. Doctors and bodyguards from the Speedwagon Foundation, an organization founded by his grandfather's surrogate uncle dedicated to medical and paranormal research. He had only heard about it in passing before, unaware up until now that they had a family connection to such a prestigious business.

"Mohamed, you know there's nothing they can do, right," asked Joaquín quietly. "None of them are Stand users. They can't see or do anything about it."

"Correct," nodded Mohamed. "The most they can do at the moment is monitor Mrs. Holly's condition. But even _they_ cannot stop her Stand from growing. Over time, it will begin to entangle her. And she will become susceptible to other diseases apart from her current fever. Once her disease has advanced to it's worst stage, she will fall into a coma she could never awaken from… and she… Forgive me, Joaquín… but she _will_ die."

Joaquín was really tempted to slap Mohamed for saying that, but it would have gotten him nowhere. _He's right_ , despite his heart wishing he was wrong. _She's going to suffer… Which is why we need to act quickly._

"This is not the first time I have seen such a phenomenon, Joaquín. Those who have a weak or kindred spirit cannot handle the power of a Stand, no matter how weak it is. In these cases, the sickness they suffer is too powerful, resulting in an unavoidable death."

"But this is my mom we're talking about. There is a way we can undo this, and that's killing Dio. And we _will_ do it before it's too late."

"Indeed. We have fifty days before she dies. More than enough time to get to Egypt. And while our flight will head directly there, save for several stops, we should not take that time for granted."

"Agreed." Joaquín sighed and turned back to the house, heading back in to see his mother. He was confident that their flight to Egypt would go without a hitch, but he was also worried. They were dealing with a man who was certain to plan ahead. He had already sent two of his henchmen after them. Who's to say that he wouldn't plant one in the plane? It was a troubling thought, but he was certain the others shared the same concern and would prepare for such an event.

It took a moment to navigate the large house and come upon his mother's room. Everyone was inside, Joutarou leaning against the sliding door stoically as their grandfather trimmed his daughter's nails. Della was there as well, brushing her hair. Holly looked okay, sitting up and smiling at them all despite her paleness and the creeping vine on her neck. It was as if she was unaware she was sick. But he knew she knew better than that. She had to feel that.

"Really, I just don't know what came over me," said his mother, her sweet voice betraying her illness. "I came down with a silly old fever and passed out… Thankfully, that medicine helped calm it down."

"Well, you did give us a little scare, Holly," said Joseph, though little was an understatement. "Just let us work and we'll take care of you before we go." It was almost funny seeing his grandfather brush his mother caring for his mother, a middle-aged woman, as he would a little girl. But it just showed how much he loved her, willing to do anything for his child. And that included brushing her teeth, feeding her, and washing her up.

But it did not include changing her panties.

"I'm only kidding," giggled Holly as she twirled a pair in front of her embarrassed father. She set them down and turned her sons and asked, "Joutarou, Joaquín, would you two like anything for dinner tonight?"

The elder of the two was about to protest, but the younger beat him to it with a rather fierce shout. " _No! You shut up and don't move!_ " The room went quiet, and the smile on Holly's face faltered. Everyone was surprised at how commanding Joutarou's voice was. It seemed to surprise himself as well, for he tipped his hat and calmly said, " _Look j-just don't do anything until that fever goes down. Just get some rest and you'll be okay._ "

Holly's smile returned as she chuckled and laid back in her futon. "Everyone's so kind whenever I get sick," she said, her eyes resting on her sons. "I'm so glad I have such a wonderful family to look after me."

"Why wouldn't we," asked Joaquín frankly. "You're our mom. We love you." Joutarou, still looking away, gave a brief nod.

"And I love you all, too… Please be careful..." And without warning, she fell unconscious again.

"Mom," exclaimed Joaquín. Before he and his brother could approach, their grandfather held his hand out to stop them. He moved it to her forehead, his face one of suffering. This was hurting him as much as it did the brothers.

"Even with a high fever, Holly still puts on a brave face for us… We haven't spoken to her about it, but I could tell by her demeanor that she knows… She knows about her Stand… In fact… She's been trying to conceal it. She didn't want us to worry… Oh, Holly…" He knew his grandfather had gone through enough pain in his life. He did not want him to go through more loss at the hands of the man who plagued his family.

Joaquín took his mother's hand in his and spoke in a low tone as if she would be the only one to hear him. "We will help you. Don't worry. We _will_ put a stop to him… And we _will_ come back to you... I promise..." And then he hugged her as tightly as any son would his mother. He didn't want to leave her so soon as he had re-entered her life, but he had no choice. He _had_ to save her.

After they all bid Holly farewell, the group had congregated outside, where Noriaki and Mohamed were waiting and still talking.

" _You know_ ," began Noriaki earnestly, " _Holly-san certainly is an extraordinary person. Her very presence is enough to put any heart at ease, even in the most troubling of times. This may sound odd, but if ever I fall in love, I wish it to be a with a woman like her. Someone I could protect, whose warm, cheerful smile I could see._ "

" _You've got a big heart, Noriaki_ ," said Joaquín, patting the youth's back. " _Don't worry. We'll all see my mother smiling by the end of this. Now let's not waste any more time. We've got a plane to catch._ " A black car pulled up for them, also from the Speedwagon Foundation. They had their belongings, which were kept to a minimum, placed in the trunk before all six of them departed for the airport. Looking back at what would be his new home, Joaquín silently prayed for her safety while they were gone.

It didn't take long to reach the airport. They had no problems getting through security and to their terminal. It would take a while before their plane left, so they all simply relaxed and waited patiently for the time being. Joseph had even bought them some food to keep them filled before the trip. But no amount of food could help them relax. A curtain of dread hung silently over them all. They all felt it behind their smiles and laughs.

And none felt it more than Joaquín.

He was deep in thought as he paced back and forth a considerable distance from the group. _Going to Egypt to hunt a vampire sounds easy enough to anyone else, but I know it damn well isn't. Dio's not a fool. He's spent the last century to plan his revenge. He would be prepared for anything and everything. And he's had four years to amass a group of Stand users to hunt us in turn. Us? All we can do is try to survive. Nobody is safe from him or his lackeys._

There was so much that could go wrong. He could feel it in his heart. And Joaquín was certain the others felt it, too. Like with his mother's Stand disease, they didn't want to let it worry them. They needed to stay focused and prepare for anything that came their way. Despite the risks they faced, they were all willing to put their lives on the line to push through. They all had Stands. With their powers, they could tackle whatever that immortal bastard had to throw at him.

Joaquín took a moment to list them off in his head.

 _There's my Preciosa and Joutarou's Star Platinum, both fast and precise._

Abuelito's _Hermit Purple, able to divine distant locations and people._

 _Mohamed's Magician's Red, who's the master of his own flames._

 _And Noriaki's Hierophant Green, which, according to him, can attack at long distances._

But as he thought about Stands, his mind wandered to Della. Not for the first time, of course. The fact of the matter was that Della Brown didn't have a Stand to call her own. Well, she has one, given that she was capable of seeing them perfectly. Mohamed confirmed that for them. But there was no way of telling when it will manifest. It could be today for all he knew. _And until that happens, she's in danger_ , thought Joaquín worriedly. But his next thought was filled with resolve.

 _I will protect her._ I _will be her Stand._

All that pacing and thinking made Joaquín not pay attention to his surroundings. An abrupt turn was all it took for him to bump into someone and make them drop their briefcase.

" _O-Oh, I'm so sorry_ ," said Joaquín, looking flustered as he helped pick it up.

" _No, it was my fault_ ," said a male with a calm, silky voice. " _I should have moved out of the way._ "

Joaquín stood up and handed him his briefcase. He looked like a businessman of sorts, wearing a periwinkle suit that matched his eyes. His hair was short and wavy, blonde, unlike most other Japanese men he had met. He looked as old as Joaquín, but the pronounced chin and high cheekbones made him look very mature and handsome. " _You speak very good Japanese for a foreigner._ "

" _Thank you. Are you going on a business trip?_ "

" _Yes, actually. To_ _China._ " The man adjusted his tie quickly before handing him a business card. It had a turtle in a blue box, over which read " _kameyu_ ". _Turtle friend. I hope I read that right._ " _I work in corporate for Kameyu in S. City. Have you ever been to any of their stores?_ "

" _Um, no. To be honest, I've only been here for a few days, and I haven't had the opportunity. I came to visit my mother, but something really important came up and I have to go._ "

" _Really? Well, that's quite a shame._ " He could tell he meant it, despite his rather flat expression." _Should you come back, you should make a home here in this country. If I may make a suggestion, try looking into housing in Moriou. It's a really beautiful town. I used to live there in my youth._ "

" _I'll keep that in mind. Well, I don't wanna keep you. Oh, my name's Joaquín, by the way._ "

The man smiled and quickly shook his hand. He noticed that his nails looked rather neat and long. It sent a small shiver down his spine. " _A pleasure_ ," he said without even giving his name. And the two parted ways, leaving Joaquín to silently crumple the card in relief. As charming as he was, there was something off-putting about him that made him feel uncomfortable. _Could it be that he's…_

 _No, that's silly._ _Not everyone's a Stand user. And not every one of them works for Dio. 'Sides_ _, he's going to China. It's not like I'll bump into him again._

" _Now boarding Japan Airlines Flight 187 to Egypt at 6:25_ ," called a woman over the intercom.

"Hey, Jojo," called Della from afar as she pointed out to the window. The plane had arrived and everyone was boarding. "It's time to go."

"Coming," he called back as he ran back to his group, ready to leave Japan. But before the two got on, he pulled Della aside, who asked, "Is something wrong? What did that guy say? You look a bit tense."

He shook his head and spoke in a concerned tone. "It's not that, but about our trip. Well, about you… Listen, Della... Do you... Do you really want to come? I mean, this is your last chance to back out You can ask to have your luggage removed and get a refund. None of us would think differently of you. It's just-"

"No, Jojo," she interrupted defiantly, her voice a decibel louder. She wasn't smiling, her bright eyes boring into him. It was the same look she gave him last night when they both got into an argument about her tagging along. He remembered how it had ended with her crying herself to sleep in a separate room. It was clear she didn't want a repeat of that any more than he did.

"You're my friend, Jojo. Do you really think I'm gonna let you go on your own to some strange place and never see you again? No. You're... You're special to me, damnit!" She suddenly grabbed his collar and pulled him closer so that their foreheads pressed together. Joaquín could barely smell her floral-scented shampoo as their eyes, blue and green, locked on one another. Della choked back a sob as she said, "I don't wanna lose you. I would never forgive you if you died out there on your own."

Guilt set in for making her cry again, just for suggesting she could turn back. Joaquín sighed and resigned himself to hug her tightly. "You can't forgive me if I died," he whispered into her ear, his voice calm and somewhat sad. "I can't forgive myself if _you_ died. You know that. You know I would lay my life down for you as you would me. And as sad as that sounds, I'm honestly grateful to know there are such loyal people like you looking out for me.

"I'm sorry, Della. I care about you." He let go of her and wiped her eyes. "I mean, that's what friends are for. To look out for one another. Even if it does lead to arguments."

"I forgive you, Jojo," Della said, giving him a watery smile. "You're just someone who thinks about everyone ahead of yourself. There's a word for that, you know. Selflessness. And thus far, I think you're the most selfless person I've met."

"Is that a good thing?"

"Of course. Now let's not keep the others waiting." She held out her hand to him, which Joaquín took thankfully. After having such an emotional moment, and having just shaken an odd stranger's hand, he welcomed her grip. Without another word, they boarded their plane, ready to leave Japan for the trip ahead of them.

~+JO*JO+~

"...

"It's as Enya and I thought... They have sensed my whereabouts...

"They are coming to Egypt...

"...

"Joseph... Joutarou... and...

"... Joaquín...

"...

"You look just like him...

"I look forward to meeting you face to face... Jojo..."

~+JO*JO~

The time was 10:35 PM. Flight 187 was currently thousands of miles above the East China Sea. It wasn't a straight flight to Egypt. The plane would be making several small stops along the way, the first of which was Bangkok. Joaquín and the others had no problem with this. It just meant they would be getting to see different countries for a moment before heading to Cairo, where they would begin their search.

His grandfather and the others were resting. As for Joaquín, he felt on edge. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he felt an odd sensation emanating from where his birthmark was. He looked around. Everyone, including Della beside him, was fast asleep. He looked over his seat and tapped his grandfather's shoulder. The poor man jumped and turned to him.

" _Abuelito_ , did you feel it too," he asked in a whisper.

"Yes," said Joseph hurriedly. He looked as shaken as Joaquín felt. "Just now, I felt like I was being-

"Watched by Dio?"

"Yes." His grandfather turned to Joutarou. Looking over the seat, he could see his brother looked just as disturbed as his relatives. He felt it too. "Joutarou, Joaquín, we have to keep our guard up. I feel as though Dio has already placed an assassin aboard this plane."

That didn't help calm Joaquín's nerves at all. The last thing he was hoping for was some agent of Dio to try and kill them here, of all places. Even more worrisome were the innocent people around them, who could be at risk of being caught in the crossfire of battle He only hoped it wouldn't have to come to a fight.

As he reclined back in his seat, Joaquín heard an odd sound. There was a buzzing mixed with the mixed snores and the hum of the plane. A low, angry sound like a propeller plane. Everyone around him seemed to notice, Noriaki and Mohamed waking up to the noise. He sat up straighter and peered around for the source. Sure enough, he found it in the shape of a large, slate blue stag beetle flying around. Joaquín sat back down and tried not to draw attention to the fact that he spotted it.

The bug flew over their heads as if ignoring them. He tapped his grandfather again and said, " _Abuelito_ , there's a stag beetle on this plane."

"I noticed," he replied before speaking to Mohamed. "Avdol, you saw it too, right? Is that a Stand? Was I actually right about Dio sending an enemy Stand user?"

"Possibly," said Avdol. All the passengers seemed not to hear the buzzing. "I have heard of an insect-shaped Stand that likes to rip out tongues for fun. But it cannot be-"

"Joaquín, behind you!"

Della's cry made the group stand up and turn. The stag beetle was so close to Joaquín. He could see its crimson eyes and sharp teeth between its pincers. "Disgusting _escarabajo_ _!_ I'll crush you good!" In response to his threat, the bug opened its mouth to reveal a second mouth beneath its teeth. It reminded him way too much of the xenomorphs in the _Alien_ movies. Joaquín got out into the aisle and summoned Preciosa. His Stand delivered a swift punch to this beetle, but...

 _It dodged?! But that's impossible! It's just an insect, there's no way it can be that fast!_

The second mouth shot out at Preciosa's own mouth. He held up his hand to catch it, but it pierced through and it grabbed his tongue. Preciosa held it in place with his teeth before the beetle could pull away. The group swiftly stood up, ready to fight.

"Shit, this really hurts," muttered Joaquín, his hand now bleeding. "Mohamed, is this the Stand you were talking about?"

He nodded and clasped his head in worry. "Yes, it is him... 'The Tower', the card symbolizing destruction, disaster and interrupted journeys... The Tower of Grey! Its user was responsible for several plane crashes, derailments, and building fires... It is a mass-murdering Stand who specializes in these crimes. Last year alone, there was a plane crash in England that resulted in 300 casualties and one survivor. They all had empty pockets and missing tongues. I cannot believe this user is following Dio's orders..."

"Interrupted journey my ass! _¡_ _TOMA_ _!_ " Preciosa immediately tore away from the mouth-like tongue that pierced his hand and let out a flurry of punches. While the tongue was shattered, the Stand avoided each blow. He couldn't believe it. Not only did he avoid a single-handed punch, but also double-handed punches. Preciosa spat out the remnants of the bug's tongue just as another formed in its mouth.

Tower of Grey laughed and spoke in a buzzing voice. "You could be a centimeter away from me, you could shoot at me with ten guns, and you'll never touch my Stand! Not like bullets can hurt it anyway!" And then, it disappeared. Everyone began looking around frantically. The Stand user was definitely amongst them. They had to find him quick before it was too late. It took a moment, but they found the bug again, hovering behind a row of passengers. It flew straight through the chairs...

...and out the backs of four heads.

"Oh my god!" shouted Joaquín in disgust. The ripped-off tongue's hung off of Tower of Grey's tongue as his victims slumped over dead in their seats. "Y-You just-"

"Bingo", laughed Tower of Grey. "And now, in the name of Lord Dio, I'm gonna pull off one hell of a..." It then flew towards a wall and began writing with the blood from the tongues. M... A... Everyone gasped when it finished its own sentence with a chilling word.

MASSACRE.

Mohamed summoned a crimson humanoid with a bird-like head and flaming, feathery legs and wrist. Their surroundings immediately grew hotter by the second. _So_ this _is Magician's Red_ , thought Joaquín in amazement. This avian Stand seemed to give off so much heat, especially from his mouth. It became all too clear how powerful and dangerous this Stand was,

"I'm going to burn you to ashes, you monster," calmly said Mohamed, his Stand ready to set the bug ablaze.

" _Wait_ ," quickly said Kakyoin. " _Don't rush into this, Avdol._ "

There was a yawn, beside them. Tower of Grey disappeared as an old and nearly bald man had just woken up, rubbing the sleep out of his tired eyes. "What's all that racket," he mumbled as he stood up. "What's going on? Hmm... Guess I'll just go to the bathroom." They watched as the old man shuffled past them, his hand unconsciously touching the bloody wall. He stopped and looked at his hand, then at the word the blood spelled out. It took a second, but he reeled back and his teeth popped out of his mouth.

"B-Blood," he gasped. "T-This is b-blood!"

They didn't need anyone awake to see this. Joaquín went behind the horrified elder and used his _hamon_ to chop his neck and knock him out. He turned to the others and said, "We gotta work fast, but we need to not do anything rash. Mohamed, Magician's Red's flames could blow us all up. Plus, if Joutarou and I aren't careful, we could punch a hole in the cabin, and that's just as bad."

"So that just leaves Mr. Joseph and Noriaki," said Della.

" _I'll handle this_ ," said Noriaki, stepping forward as Tower of Grey showed itself before them again. " _Hierophant Green is a quiet Stand. More than appropriate enough to dispose of you._ "

Tower of Grey huffed as it said, "Kakyouin Noraki. I've heard about you from Lord Dio. You defected from us to join these scumbags! If you know your Stand is a "quiet" one, then you should quit while you're ahead! You can't dream of catching me with your pitiful speed!"

 _"I don't think so_ ". Hierophant Green, a biomechanical Stand with silvery green armor and lots of streaked and exposed green skin, manifested behind him. It held its hands a foot apart and formed a fountain of water in its hands. " _Emerald Splash!_ " Tilting it hands, Hierophant Green began to shoot what looked like emeralds riding along tidal waves. It had to be a vision because nothing was getting wet. And nothing was being hit. The gems were swiftly dodged by Tower of Grey at impossible speeds.

The bug then launched its tongue and scrapped off the other Stands mask over its mouth. Noriaki fell to the ground with his mouth almost cut open and bleeding. Tower of Grey cackled and taunted him. "Throw all the projectiles you like, you can't get me! I'm to speed for the likes of you! Hahaha! Bingo! You're too slow! And now, Kakyouin, my 'Tower Needle' will claim your tongue!" Noriaki tried in vain to launch another Emerald Splash from the floor, but it did nothing as Tower of Grey dodged and prepared its fanged tongue.

"Don't you get it! Once I tear out that tongue, you'll be quivering with the pain of death! Now suffer!" It was drawing near. The Emerald Splash had failed. It was going to kill him.

"Noriaki," cried out Joaquín and Della.

" _What's that_ ," said Noriaki with cool confidence. " _I'll be shuddering in pain when you tear it out? My Hierophant Green..._ " All too suddenly, silvery green tentacles shot out from empty seats and pierced right through Tower of Grey. It twitched in shock, unable to move. " _..shudders in pleasure when it tears things up._ " The tentacles squeezed together and sliced the stag beetle apart in its grip.

" _Hierophant's tentacles went under and into the seats_ ," said Noriaki as he stood up. They could see that the Stand's feet had flattened and stretched out into tentacles against the floor. You could barely tell what it was doing unless you looked down. " _I realized the only way to get him was with a surprise attack. That last Emerald Splash was to push him into their radius._ "

There came a pained noise below them. The man on the floor was awake and writhing. He screamed in agony and lolled his tongue out. It had a nasty tattoo of a stag beetle. They barely had a moment to examine it before the tongue and most of his head split apart.

"It was… It was him," said Della with horrific fascination in her voice. "Tower of Grey's user…"

Joaquín lifted the man up and placed him in his seat. "A horrible Stand attached to a horrible man." He looked closer at whatever was left of his torn head. "There's not a flesh bud on him. That must mean he joined Dio willingly."

"He is a man who enjoys chaos and robbing his victims," said Mohamed as he discreetly covered him in a blanket. "It looks like Dio payed him to do this."

It was still hard for Joaquín to swallow. Dio was paying these people to hunt them down. And it wasn't just ordinary Stand users either. As demonstrated with this man, he wasn't below hiring madmen to do the deed. Willing ones, at that. Now that he had a better idea of the type of users working for him, Joaquín can be better prepared for whatever they had thrown at them.

Except, of course, for the plane tilting. He wasn't prepared for that.

"Shit, this is bad," exclaimed Joseph. "Come on!" He motioned for them all to follow him as they ran all the way up to where the cockpit was. Two stewardesses saw them and approached them.

" _Excuse me, sirs, madam_ ," one of them said politely. " _But passengers are not allowed to enter pat here. Please return to your seats._ "

" _I'm sorry_ ," grunted Joseph as he pushed past, " _but this is an emergency!_ "

" _Sorry, ladies, but he's right._ " The two stewardesses turned to the sound of Joutarou, Joaquín standing beside him. They fawned at how handsome they were, but they were moved aside as he and his brother followed their grandfather. As Noriaki stood behind to apologize for their actions, the group was greeted by a horrific sight. The pilots were dead, their tongues torn out. Blood splattered the windshield and the damaged panels.

"Oh man," whispered Joaquín as he beheld the disaster. The plane felt as if it was falling faster. "That bug must have come here when we weren't looking. He even screwed over the autopilot controls! We're fucked!"

"Indeed you are!"

The group turned to see the old man staggering behind them. He was bleeding profusely, looking half dead with his split head and tongue. He laughed maniacally and spoke in an almost incomprehensible garble.

"Interrupted travels! Accidents! These are the traits of my Stand's card! Even if you survive this crash, Egypt is still ten thousand kilometers away! Those who swore loyalty to Dio as I did will pursue you day and night! In this world, there are Stands the likes of which you can't possibly comprehend! And Lord Dio's reigns supreme over them all!"

The dying man pointed threateningly and cried out, "You will never reach him! You will never live to see Egypt," before laughing his last and crumpling to the floor. He was finally dead. The nearby stewardesses were shaking, but they didn't scream out.

" _Very professional of you, ladies_ ," commended Joutarou as he sat in the co-pilot's seat. His grandfather took the main pilot's seat and looked over the controls. " _You didn't scream and draw attention to this situation. My grandfather's gonna make an emergency water landing. Do us a favor. Tell the passengers, and make sure they get some life preservers on. And cover up the four others who were killed before you do._ " He really was polite when the situation called for it. When the ladies had left, Joaquín laughed nervously as he went over to his family.

"O-Okay, there's no need to panic," he said as his composure slowly began to break. "It's just an emergency landing, no big deal. Uh, _Abuelito_ , please tell me you can fly a plane."

"Of course. Its the same as flying a propeller plane." The confidence in such an absurd declaration had everyone looking at him as if he were a madman.

" _Propeller_ ," muttered Noriaki.

"What the- How is that the same?!" Joaquín was almost beside himself in exasperation. "The structure! The controls! You can't just pilot something if you've only piloted something completely different!"

"So, I guess this is a bad time to tell you all that this is gonna be my third crash." His grandfather turned to all of them and smiled. "Have you guys ever known anyone else who's crashed a plane three times in his life?"

With his composure finally broken, Joaquín screamed.

He was never going to fly with his grandfather again.

~GREY FLY: (1902~1988) RIP~


	10. Je Suis Un Homme

Ch. 10  
Je Sui Un Homme

NOVEMBER 30TH 1988  
12:02  
HONG KONG, CHINA

The plane made a safe crash 35km off the southern coast of Hong Kong. Rescue efforts lasted from several hours after the crash well into the morning. Helicopters and ships helped bring all the passengers onto the mainland. Their luggage was mercifully salvaged from the plane. Joaquín couldn't be more grateful of China for helping them all, but he felt annoyed that they thought he and his group killed all those people.

Thankfully, his grandfather helped the police identify the criminal known as Grey Fly (the Stand user's nickname). They were free to go after that. The following day, the group made their way through a dainty market place, where Joseph had to stop for a moment to place an important call. _Possibly to the Speedwagon Foundation_ , thought Joaquín as they waited patiently for him across the street. He was able to catch some snippets of what he was saying from where they stood.

"Yes... Make sure we're the only ones aboard, along with the crew members... Of course... We want to avoid any future casualties..."

"Jojo, where do you think we're going," asked Della.

"I don't know," said Joaquín scratching his chin, "But it better not involve another plane. I think one crash with _Abuelito_ is enough to last me a lifetime. Personally, transportation's the last thing on my mind right now. I wanna get some rest. And some food."

" _We all do,_ niisan," said Joutarou, tilting his cap a bit. The excitement from the turbulent flight had faded, replaced with an empty feeling in them. It wasn't just hunger or exhaustion. Joaquín and the others had allowed innocent civilians to be killed aboard the flight. All because they were in the way. It filled Joaquín with such guilt that he wanted to scream. But he didn't. He needed to keep his head level, especially since he did enough screaming like a little girl on the plane.

A nearby street vendor popped his sweaty head out of a window, speaking in slightly broken English. "Hey, big boy! You all tourists? Want some congee? Anyone coming to Hong Kong has to have congee and dim sum. And with some hot cola, too!" The vendor pulled out a bowl of white porridge from behind his kiosk, as well as a glass of fizzing, not-at-all-cold soda. Joaquín was surprised hot soda was a thing here in China.

" _Rice porridge, eh_ ," said Noriaki with interest before turning to Joaquín and his brother. " _Did you know that unlike in Japan, rice porridge is a staple in Hong Kong?_ " He turned back to the vendor and ordered a bowl with pork and a century egg.

" _Century egg_ ," asked Della. " _What do you mean by century egg?_ "

" _Well, the egg is preserved in a special mixture for several weeks or months until the yolk is grey and the whites are orange. It's better than it sounds._ " Poor Della had turned green and was trying not to puke at the thought. The same went with Joaquín. Before Mohamed could make an order, his grandfather had finished his call and was crossing over.

"Hey, are you guys hungry," he asked. "Don't get food from there, we're going to a friend's shop to eat lunch."

"Hey, dandy guy," called the vendor, offering the bowl and glass from before. "Want some congee and a glass of hot cola?"

"HOT?! Cola's supposed to be cold, everyone knows that!"

" _Jijii_ ," said Joutarou. "Who were you calling?"

"Don't worry. I'll explain when we sit down and eat. We need to come up with a plan to reach Egypt."

"Mr. Joestar," said Mohamed. "the quickest route would be by plane. However..."

"You're right." They all began walking with Joseph as he went on. "It's impossible to reach Egypt by plane. If we take another commercial flight, there would only be another Stand user waiting like before. We can't afford more civilian casualties. Therefore, our only options left are by land or sea."

~+JO*JO+~

"However," said Mohamed, as they were all sitting at a table in a local Chinese restaurant, "if we do not reach Dio within fifty days, then Mrs. Holly's life will expire. There is no doubt..."

Everyone looked troubled. Noriaki, who vowed to save Holly out of wishing to marry a saintly woman like her, spoke what Joaquín had thought since they arrived here. " _If we were still on that plane, we would have been in Cairo._ "

At this, Joaquín's grandfather gave him a curious smirk. "I know that, but I don't think so. Have you heard about Jules Verne's novel _Around The World in Eighty Days_?" Everyone except the two Japanese students nodded. "A man traveled over 40,000km around the Earth during an age where steamboats, trains and hot air balloons were the best methods of travel. Any man can travel if they believe they can. Plane or not, we can still travel those ten thousand kilometers to Egypt. The best route would be by sea."

He then pulled out a map from his coat and placed it on the table. Everyone followed his finger, which began on Hong Kong. "I've already made the arrangements. We charter a suitably-sized vessel to travel around the Malaysian Peninsula and through the Indian Ocean. The Silk Road of the seas, if you may."

"I see why you decided to take a sea route, _Abuelito_ ," said Joaquín. "Looking at this map, if we go by land, we have to deal with deserts and the Himalayas. And we're not prepared for cold weather at all. Not to mention there would be more traps on the road for us. And borders, too. Right, Mohamed?" An impressed Mohamed nodded, having thought the same thing.

"Not to mention that several countries are still in conflict," added Mohamed. "It would be unwise for us to be caught in a war when we already have our own problems. Our presence among them would only worsen their situation. But hopefully, we can avoid this."

" _I hope so as well_ ," said Noriaki. " _I've never gone by those two routes before, but I will take wherever you all go._ " And everyone nodded in agreement.

"Now here's the next problem," continued Joaquín. "Stand users. I thought about who we would bump into, considering these are assassins being thrown at us. We know nothing about them at all. But I have a hunch that their Stands are all named after tarot cards. With the exception of Money back home, there was Hierophant Green and Tower of Grey... Mohamed, do you know any other Stand users with that type of theme who _might_ work for Dio?'

The fortune-teller looked pensive for a moment before speaking up. "Devo the Cursed and his Ebony Devil fit the profile. He is an extremely scarred Native American shaman and a deadly assassin. I have only met him once, but from what I gathered, he allows his opponents to harm him. The hatred and pain he feels allow his Stand to remotely kill them. Normal people claim a curse was placed on his victims. None know what his Stand does, for all who have been 'cursed' die."

" _Diablo._ I'd hate to be in the same room with that." Joaquín shuddered, but he wasn't too worried. They so far had taken down two of his minions and reformed one. A remote Stand like that wouldn't be a problem for us. _If there's anything I've learned from seeing them is that it's not just a battle of strength. You need to think. If we can't think of how to defeat one without brute force, then they would gain the upper hand. And I'll be damned if I allow any of Dio's men to outsmart us._

He sighed and went to pour more tea, but there wasn't much left. "Uh, we ran out," he said sheepishly.

" _Allow me_ ," said Noriaki. He slightly removed the lid. " _In Hong Kong, you do this if you want a refill. And while the servers do that, you tap your fingers twice as a sign of gratitude._ " And he did just that as a waitress came and refilled their teapot. It looked like something Joutarou wouldn't do. At least, in the present company.

As she left, a young man approached. The smiling man looked pretty young, his peculiarly silver hair styled up in a short pillar and his matching, silvery blue eyes shining. He wore golden, half-heart earrings and a black, single strapped top that exposed some of his pectorals. " _Excuze-moi_ ," he said to them all in French. "I hate to disturb you all, but I am having trouble with this menu. You see, I'm a tourist from France, and I couldn't help but notice two of you were Chinese."

"Japanese," corrected Joutarou with a sneer. "Now get lost, we're having a serious conversation."

"Now Joutarou, there's no need for the rudeness." Joseph looked through his menu. "I don't mind helping you, good sir. I've been here in the past, so I can read a bit of the characters. Now, let me see… What would you like? Shrimp, duck, shark's fin, mushrooms?"

"Surprise me," said the Frenchman. Joseph called over a waiter and made several orders (Joaquín hoped he knew what he was asking for) as the stranger pulled up a seat beside him and Joaquín. "By the way, I am Jean Pierre Polnareff. A pleasure to meet you all."

"Likewise," said Joaquín as he shook his hand. "I'm Joaquín. That's Della, Mohamed, Noriaki, my brother Joutarou, and my grandfather Joseph.

" _Bonjour, mes amis!_ " Everyone returned the greeting except Joutarou, who eyed him cautiously. For a moment, he turned his gaze to Joaquín. He immediately knew what he was thinking. While Jean Pierre had a friendly air to him, it was strange that of all the people in this restaurant, he'd choose to go to them for help choosing food. Joaquín nodded to his brother and kept his eye on the man as well, smiling along with him. He didn't look dangerous, but looks were always deceiving.

It took several minutes, but their food had arrived. And his grandfather could not have picked more questionable food. There was congee, but there was also boiled fish, steamed clams, and whole grilled frogs. Jean Pierre eyed the frogs with intrigue. Joaquín meanwhile felt uncomfortable eating something that reminded him of Preciosa.

His grandfather laughed and shrugged. "Oh well! Let's just tuck in, then! It's on me!" Everybody but Jean Pierre, who was helping himself to the frogs, was looking at Joseph with the same incredulity as when he mentioned his history with planes. His smile didn't falter. "What's with those faces? It's not that bad!"

And so everyone cautiously did. All things considered, the food wasn't _that_ bad.

Jean Pierre picked at his vegetables. "Well, they sure took their time in making this for us. Just look at these carrots." He picks up a carrot in his chopsticks, looking at it with wonder. "It looks like a star. Such fine craftsmanship. It's funny, really. This star almost reminds me of something important."

The air suddenly grew still. They all looked up with dawning realization as Jean Pierre's smile slowly faded. He moved the carrot over the side of his neck.

"Yes... A man I met before... He had a birthmark on his back. Just like this carrot."

He was one of Dio's minions.

The bowl of porridge shook. Before anyone could say a word, a hand shot out of it. It was holding a long and sharp rapier, which it tried to slash at Joseph. He moved his left hand and it sliced right through one of his fingers, which surprisingly didn't shed blood. Magician's Red made himself appear and began to breathe fire on the sword, but it was for naught as the thin blade spun and spun the flames like cotton candy before it was enveloped in it.

The sword rose from the bowl, to reveal the Stand holding it: a thin, robotic, silver-armored knight with glaring yellow eyes.

Everyone got up and away from the table as the Stand knocked it over, sending bowls and food flying everywhere. He slashed and sent the flames all around the table. It looks like it created a clock from the fire. Jean Pierre's eyes never left Mohamed's the entire time. He looked as if he wanted to fight him the most. "My Stand represents 'The Chariot' card. Silver Chariot. Mohamed Avdol, it seems as if you wish to be the first to settle this. Then so be it! You will die before the clock strikes 12!"

"Have you lost your fucking mind," shouted Joaquín, who had yet to call out Preciosa. "Are you really planning to fight here?! In a restaurant full of civilians?!"

Joaquín looked around and saw several people looking on in confusion and fear. The Stands and fire were invisible to the patrons, but they could still feel something tense was happening. They needed to move this battle away from them. He knew Mohamed felt the same way, but could he convince him?

"Before 12," he chuckled softly. "That's a rather conceited claim, considering that those are my own flames." He made a swipe with his hand and the bottom half of the table burned off, taking the hand off the makeshift clock. Polnareff was actually impressed. " _Monsieur_ Polnareff, do not assume my flames always burn upwards or against the wind. There is a reason my Stand is named Magician's Red. These may be his flames, but I am their magician."

Polnareff raised a shaved eyebrow before speaking again. "It is said that when the world began, it was wreathed in flames. I expect nothing less of Magician's Red for manipulating the flames of beginning. Now, you said I was conceited for my threat? Then does that mean," he pulled out several coins from his pocket and tossed them amongst the flames that hung lazily in the air from the smoldering table, "that my swordsmanship is conceited too?!"

Silver Chariot stabbed through each coin with precise speed. It was so fast that Joaquín doubted even Preciosa could catch it. But his speed wasn't surprising. No. It was the fact that between each coin was an ember, punctured by the sword.

"By now, you see what this means. I never make a boast if I knew I couldn't back it up. My Stand can cut through anything freely, including flames. The air is nothing when I tear through it. It can make gaps of nothingness in it. In other words, your flames are useless." Silver Chariot made one more swipe and relinquished the flaming coins from its skewer. Jean Pierre walked past them and the patrons, who were complaining about the heat. He turned back to the group and smirked.

"The card my Stand is named after represents invasion and victory. In a crowded space such as this, I would win. But that would be unfair, wouldn't it, Avdol? I think a wider battlefield would give you a better chance at victory. Perhaps show your Stand's flames' true worth." His smile, though laced with something wicked, felt sincere. "Beating you there would be victory worthy of my Stand. Now come. All of you. Once I win, you all shall follow in his loss."

~+JO*JO+~

The location Jean Pierre lead them all to was beyond anything Joaquín and the others had imagined for a battlefield. Everything was so bright and bizarre. Statues of tigers, dragons, even one of Buddha himself rested unmoving upon colored and raised landscapes. There were some pagodas cropping up from amidst the beautifully-crafted fauna. Such a place could only be real in dreams. Perhaps that was why it was made, to make such dreams a reality.

"Welcome to the Tiger Balm Garden," said Jean Pierre as he stepped down from a nearby perch. "A beautiful backdrop for what is to be a magnificent battle. Now, allow me to make a prediction. You, Avdol, shall be the first to perish. And by your own Stand's flames." Mohamed and Magician's Red did not look too fazed by this. He couldn't see behind him, but he was certain he flashed a smile.

"Avdol," started Joutarou, but Mohamed stopped him.

"Joutarou, there's no need for your involvement," he said reassuringly. "The same goes for you, Joaquín. It's as he said earlier. My Stand has a better advantage in a wider battlefield." The brothers nodded as they and the others backed up. Joaquín almost felt excited. He was finally going to see his Stand in action. As the crimson bird-man braced himself, so did Silver Chariot. There was a brief moment of silence. Then...

"Hora!" Silver Chariot thrust his rapier at his opponent's head, but the bird dodged. This didn't bother him. In fact, it was amusing Jean Pierre instead. Magician's Red continued to dodge the jabs with little effort. The man's smile couldn't be any wider. "What's wrong? Are you so vain that you won't use your special flames against me? If you won't use them, then by all means, allow me to strike! HorahoraHORA!"

The rapier jabbed almost as fast as Preciosa could punch. It didn't look like he was aiming to hit Magician's Red, but rather hoping he tries to dodge in order to strike him. The bird crossed his arms and shot several fireballs at Silver Chariot, only for him to swipe them into a rock formation behind his opponent. It didn't crumble completely, rather breaking apart to reveal a finely carved effigy of Magician's Red.

"Okay, you guys have to admit that's fucking cool," said Joaquín excitedly.

"That bastard's mocking Avdol," his grandfather said angrily.

"But it's _still_ cool!

Jean Pierre chuckled as he admired his work. "This statue will make a fine addition to this garden. Wouldn't you and your Stand agree?" He received no answer except Mohamed and Magician's Red moving their arms. The air grew hot around them, greater than back on the plane. "Yes...You're about to get serious with your abilities, aren't you? Fascinating. Now bring it on!"

"Everyone hide," shouted Joseph as he hid behind a statue. "He's going to use _that_ technique! We'll burn if we don't!" Nobody argued with him. They watched as Magician's Red breathed in, flames forming in his mouth as he crossed his arm. Jean Pierre made no move to dodge at all.

"CROSSFIRE," shouted Mohamed, his Stand closing his mouth over the gathered flames. "HURRICANE!" Magician's Red opened his beak, and they immediately knew why Joseph warned them. He had unleashed a gigantic blazing ankh, sparkling with several ankh-shaped rubies trailing in its wake. A vision, just like Hierophant Green's tidal wave. But the flames and the intense heat, even at a safe distance, were all too real.

"Is this all there is to your trifling power," taunted Jean Pierre. "I told you, my swordsmanship lets me create gaps of nothingness in the air, just like with this flame!" Silver Chariot sliced the ankh. It was so bright and hot that Joaquín could barely make out what happened. But it became painfully obvious after a second. The flame returned to its breather, both the Stand and Mohamed now enveloped in the powerful flames. Joaquín couldn't believe it. Jean Pierre was right.

He was going to die at his own Stand's hands.

But the prospect of burning to death wasn't going to stop Mohamed. Lying prone on the ground, he brought his flaming Stand back to lunge at his opponent, Jean Pierre looked exasperatedly at him and said, "Good grief, good grief! Attacking me in vain? How unsightly!" He sliced Magician's Red in half. It looked like he had won, but... he didn't. Something wasn't right. The split Stand burst and engulfed Jean Pierre in flames, leaving him and everyone else confused.

Mohamed, standing unharmed to his feet with the real Magician's Red, gladly explained. "Dazzling, they not? My flames. What you burned and cut apart, Polnareff, was the statue you had carved. The flames you sent back hit the statue and turned its joints to mud, allowing it to move. I told you, I am the magician of these flames. They move to my will. Therefore, it is you whose Stand shall be his own undoing. And again, to my Crossfire Hurricane."

Magician's Red breathed out another ankh and blasted both Stand and master away. "Fighting a prophet with prophecies? Perhaps you are ten years too early, my friend." Jean Pierre landed atop some stairs, his Stand now burned up completely. Both Joaquín and Della cheered as they and the others ran up to Mohamed.

"That was incredible, Mr. Avdol," said Della.

"You kicked major ass, Mohamed," cheered Joaquín.

"He looks pretty burned," said Joutarou unsmiling. "If he's lucky, he'll live with some pretty severe injuries. But luck can only go so far."

Mohamed and the others turned their attention to Jean Pierre. He wasn't moving at all. His skin looked almost charred. "If he survives, he will be unconscious for three months or so. With his Stand in the condition I left it in, he will be unable to fight for some time. Now, we must make haste. Planes are out of the question, so we must hurry to Egypt."

Joaquín looked back at Jean Pierre. He felt sorry for the man. Sure, he was working for Dio, but he seemed to be different than what the madman sent their way. Here was a man filled with pride and honor. Overconfident and conceited as he sounded, he wasn't afraid to allow his opponent a proper fighting chance. He wasn't cowardly, nor was he reveling at the prospect of killing. He fought his hardest, and Joaquín knew he would accept the loss with dignity when he awoke.

 _You have my respect for that, Jean Pierre, thought Joaquín as everyone began leaving. You and Silver Chariot… Huh?_

"Uh, guys," said Joaquín with a hint of worry in his voice. "I don't think it's over yet." Everyone stopped and turned to see the remanifesting Silver Chariot, smoldering and rising from Jean Pierre. He should have been in pieces, but there he stood, shaking and glaring. All too suddenly, it burst apart in smoke, and his user was lifted off from the ground. There he floated, facing them upside down. Everyone noticed that the burns were now nothing minor than major. Jean Pierre opened his eyes and smiled at them all.

"Bravo! Oh, bravo!" He clapped in praise as everyone looked understandably shocked. Especially Mohamed "You put on quite a good show, Avdol!"

"You're… You're okay," Della said shakily. "H-How? And how are you floating?"

" _Mon cher_ , look below me." Jean Pierre chuckled and pointed under him. Just barely visible, there was a silver figure holding him up. He tossed his master, who landed beside him elegantly. The Stand became much clearer. Silver Chariot looked drastically different now that his armor was blown off. He was leaner, his skeletal, scaly body now exposed to his opponents. His rapier was aiming directly at Mohamed.

It was _definitely_ not over yet.

"You all look taken aback. It would be shameful of me if I didn't show any chivalry and sneak attacked you before explaining what just happened. So, can you give me a second to do so before we continue?"

Mohamed stepped over and nodded. "I would be grateful," he said earnestly. "Please, explain."

"My Stand wasn't destroyed by your flames. He had his defensive armor on when you blasted him. All I did was have Silver Chariot remove it. Only some of his armor was burned, which is why I'm left with only minor injuries here and there. Now Silver Chariot has become lighter. And faster. Tell me, did you all see him move when he lifted me?" Of course not. It was fast. Joaquín saw a glimpse, but it was almost too fast for his eyes. "Obviously not. That's how fast he is now."

That perfectly explained his survival. He allowed himself to be hit by the Crossfire Hurricane. Jean Pierre knew Silver Chariot could take it. But he was exposed now. He had traded defense for speed. If he were to get hit again, there was no guaranteeing survival. Mohamed wasn't afraid to point this glaring problem to his face. But all it did was make the Frenchman scoff.

" _Oui._ However, _c'est impossible._ "

"Impossible? I would like to try."

"You can try. After I show you something that will make you change your mind."

"Please. Go ahead."

With a snap of Jean Pierre's fingers, Silver Chariot glided all around him at an almost impossible speed. But he was not alone. There were two now. Then four. Then seven.

"Impossible," shouted Joseph. "He duplicated himself! But that's not right! You can only have one Stand!"

"That's right," said Joaquín, who was watching closely with Preciosa hovering nearby. "But I met a guy who had multiple at the same time. Like a colony. This is different, though... Silver Chariot isn't making physical copies of himself... They're afterimages. He's moving so fast that he's leaving behind visions of himself."

"Very observant, Joaquín," called out Jean Pierre. "As for you, Mohamed, it looks like I succeeded in scaring you. Now, suffer!" The Silver Chariots flashed before Mohamed, lunging and slashing. It was almost impossible to tell which one was the real Stand. Magician's Red chose one of them to use another Crossfire Hurricane on, but it was for naught as he struck a rock instead. " _Non, non, non, non, non_ , I told you, your attack won't work this time. All you will hit is nothing, while I..."

It seemed as if the wounds Jean Pierre sliced onto Mohamed's face finally made their appearance. Small, bloody ankhs popped up like tattoos. His fear had long since left him. It was as if he understood what he had to do next.

"Such precision," said Mohamed as he stumbled slightly. "I did not even feel the cuts until now. You've trained your Stand's ability quite well."

"Yes, of course," said a humble Jean Pierre. "There's a reason I trained my Stand for ten years. Now, come at me! I'll finish you off with my next move!"

"I see. You had revealed your skills before you attacked as a sign of chivalrous spirit. I bow to that." And so he did. "Therefore, before we move on, I will tell you a secret about my next attack. My Crossfire Hurricane has a variation. One which my ankh is not one, but several, divided to conquer multiple targets. With this, you will lose!" Magician's Red breathed in, preparing for his next, and possibly final, attack.

"CROSSFIRE HURRICANE SPECIAL! DODGE THIS IF YOU DARE!"

"Foolish, Avdol!" As several burning ankhs burst from Magician's Red's mouth, the Chariots began to encircle their master. He was prepared for this. It was going to be a repeat of the first round, only there was no other statue to burn and use as a decoy this time. Mohamed was finished. The Chariots began to jab right at the flames again. " _Naïve, naïve, naïve, naïve!_ This time, you _will_ fall to your power! Now, deflect!" But as one Silver Chariots was ready to do so to one of the ankhs, the ground broke before them.

A separate ankh burst through and struck them all. Polnareff was tossed to the ground, flames dancing on his body as his Stand faded away once again. "My attack was not meant to hit you at first," explained Mohamed. "It was a distraction that allowed me to make this tunnel with the flames." He pointed to the hole before him. "I told you, Polnareff, my fire divides and conquers. I'm afraid that this time, _you_ have lost."

Mohamed tossed a dagger before him. "Use it. It will end your suffering quicker." And he turned back to return to his group. At first, Jean Pierre took the blade and was going to toss it. Joaquín didn't say anything, knowing deep down this man wouldn't dare do something so cowardly. He was right, as he rested his hand before flipping the blade to pierce his neck. And even doing that, he hesitated before dropping the blade. He looked proudly at Mohamed walking away as his head dropped.

"You were right," he muttered loud enough to hear. "I was being conceited… I never thought my swordsmanship would lose to your flames... Heh... Regardless... I shall honorably burn to death... I lost my battle against you... at the hands of your ability... It would be undignified for me to commit suicide..."

Mohamed and the others were moved. Joaquín could have sworn he saw a tear in Della's eye. In response to Polnareff's touching words, who had passed out from the pain, the fortune-teller snapped his fingers and extinguished the flames. He went back to him and kneeled at his side.

"Even in the face of death, you do not lose your chivalry. You had an opportunity to stab me in the back, and yet you stayed your hand. Your proud spirit transcends even Dio's will. You are a better man than him, and you have earned my respect for that. You deserve a second chance." He shifted back his hair. Joaquín saw a flesh bud amongst the silver locks. "It is as I thought. Jojo, if you would mind?"

Joutarou, who knew it was him that was being called, approached and summoned Star Platinum to remove the parasite. Unlike last time, where the situation was much more serious, the process managed to disgust his grandfather. "Ugh, god, just hurry up, Joutarou, it's disgusting," he cried out, averting his eyes from the writhing tentacles of the flesh bud. There was no need to use _hamon_ on it this time once it was removed, as the sun disintegrated the parasite on the spot.

Joseph helped carry the unconsciousness Jean Pierre to his feet. "Alright! Now that that bud's gone, maybe we can make this guy our bud-dy. Huh? Get it?"

Nobody laughed, not even out of pity for the horrible joke. Joutarou looked at his brother with slight exasperation and muttered, " _Doesn't it bother you when people make shitty puns?_ "

" _Not really_ ," Joaquín said with a smile before admitting, " _but that pun_ was _kinda shitty._ "

~JEAN PIERRE POLNAREFF: REFORMED~


	11. Easy Evil

Ch. 11  
Easy Evil

DECEMBER 2ND, 1988  
07:29  
HONG KONG CHINA

Everyone had woken up early in the morning to head out to the port. According to Joseph, the ship they were chartering was one from the Speedwagon Foundation. The crew would be composed of only SPWF members and nobody else. It was a very smart move to rely just on the company that not only helped the Joestars in the past, but the rest of the world in general. When they reached the port, Joseph pointed out to a large vessel that brought to mind a pirate ship, only made out of steel.

" _Is this really it,_ " asked Noriaki. " _It might just be me, but this ship is really big._ "

"Of course it is," said a smiling Joseph. "We need a powerful vessel to cross these treacherous waters."

"I thought the sea route would have been the safest," asked Della.

"I said it was the _best_ route. It's no safer than on land, to be honest. The worst we would have to deal with is the weather. Lord willing, it will be a smooth sail. Now, we will be making a stop in Singapore first before continuing. It will take about three days to reach there. Until then, we can all relax aboard the ship. Speaking of relaxing, Joutarou, Kakyouin, you're not going to be wearing those uniforms the whole time, are you?"

Joaquín turned to his brother and Noriaki. It was only now that he noticed that they had worn their _gakuran_ the entire time thus far. Noriaki shrugged and smiled " _We're students. We have to look and act like we are. But I'd say that's a bit of a stretch._ " Joutarou harumphed in response.

" _You guys sure are weird_ ," added Joaquín, shaking his head at the Japanese youths. " _Well, if you guys end up burning up, you only have yourselves to blame._ "

Before they boarded their ship, a voice spoke out. " _Monsieur_ Joestar. May I ask you a very bizarre question?"

It was Jean Pierre. They had bumped into him on the way to the port, where he had waited to thank them for freeing him of Dio's hold two days ago. He had followed them to the port, and it became obvious that he was the same as he was when he had the bud on him, except less conceited and not at all murderous. The entire time he was with them, he hadn't smiled. Something was bothering him, and it seemed to be every time he looked at Joaquín's grandfather. Or rather, his hands.

"This may seem nosy of me, but I noticed that you haven't taken off your gloves the entire time we've met. Even when we ate. Your left hand wouldn't happen to be a right hand, would it?"

"My left hand a right hand," asked Joseph confused. "That's an odd question. Why do you ask, Polnareff?"

Jean Pierre looked serious as his eyes locked with Joaquín's grandfather's, but he had no true malice in them. It was an odd question, but it felt innocent enough. _He's got a good point, really_ , thought Joaquín, glancing at his grandfather's gloved hands. _He's never taken them off. What kind of person keeps their gloves on for so long? Maybe he's got some nasty scars from his battles years back._

The Frenchman then gave his reasoning for asking. "I am looking for the man who murdered my little sister. I have never seen his face, but I know that both his arms end in right hands."

A chill seemed to run through them all. In Joaquín's mind came the image of a burly, twisted man, laughing and flaunting deformed hands with his back turned to him. He wondered if the others imagined the same thing. Joseph didn't answer Jean Pierre verbally, instead deciding to take his glove off to show him. Much to everyone's surprise, except Joutarou, there was a completely robotic hand mounted onto his arm.

"I lost my hand almost fifty years ago in battle," said Joseph. "This hand is a reminder that I should never underestimate my opponents… I'm sorry, but I'm not the man you're looking for."

"No, I am sorry. It was rude of me to interrogate you like that." Jean Pierre turned his back to them, looking over at the ship. He sighed and began his painful story.

"It was three years ago on a rainy day. My sister and her classmate were walking home from school along the French countryside. They came across a man, who waited at the end of the road with his back to them. What made him strange was that the rain didn't hit him at all. It went around him as if he had some transparent dome covering him. Then, the classmate's chest was cut open as if by some razor-sharp whirlwind. As for my sister, she was raped and killed. I suppose that was his only purpose for being there...

"Her friend barely survived to tell the tale. While she hadn't caught his face, she saw how he had two right hands. Nobody would believe her tale. But _I_ did. Because I knew this man had a similar ability just like me."

"He definitely sounds like he's got a Stand," said Joaquín, who was disgusted that such a man could exist.

"I swore!" He turned around, his eyes filled with tears and determination. "Ever since that day, I swore to find that man and take my revenge! Only through his death can my little sister Sherry rest in peace and dignity! My Stand will give him exactly what he deserves!"

Joaquín knew where he was coming from. As someone who lost a loved one, he wanted to get revenge for the fallen as well. But he also knew that type of thinking would get him nowhere. _Killing the man who had done you wrong would not give one true peace._ U _nless this man is as wicked as he makes him out to be. Then Jean Pierre's revenge can easily be justified._ And he knew that even if they tried, there was nothing Joaquín or anyone else could say to make him reconsider.

"And then," continued Jean Pierre, "last year, I met him. The man known as Dio. I was doing some personal investigation that led me to Egypt. He brought me in and showed me what was in my heart. My sister's killer. He knew the pain I had in my heart. He told me he could help me. Dio had been looking for people with Stands, but as to which kind, I don't know. I was scared, but he was so... _convincing_. I couldn't help but join. Eventually, he sent me to hunt after you all."

"It is because of those flesh buds that Dio is able to creep into the hearts of good men such as you, Polnareff," said Mohamed pensively.

" _I agree_ ," said Noriaki. " _But from what I can gather from your story, perhaps Dio has found this man and made him a member of his group. You_ did _say he was looking for Stand users. If the man with two right hands really is one..._ "

"Precisely." Jean Pierre hitched the duffel bag he had brought to the port over his shoulder. "Which is why I have decided yesterday to join you all to Egypt. If you truly are hunting Dio, and if my hunch is right, then I am bound to find Sherry's killer."

There was a brief silence, which was broken by some giggling women approaching them. They were tourists, judging by how they were dressed Joaquín saw that they were looking only at him and his brother, holding cameras and blushing ear to ear.

"Hey there," said one of them. "I'm sorry, but can you take a picture of us? We'd really appreciate it!"

"Can we also get them signed," said the other.

Joaquín chuckled nervously while Joutarou looked annoyed. Neither of them felt comfortable around such fawning women. Looking beside him, he caught sight of a rather annoyed Della. _Looks like she doesn't like these girls either_ , he thought. _Don't worry, Della. I got this._ He turned his attention back to the tourists and apologetically said, "I don't exactly wanna take a picture of people I don't know. Sorry girls."

"Please," the girls asked in whiny voices.

" _YAKAMASHII_ ," yelled a now aggravated Joutarou. "Go bug someone else for a photo!"

 _Not the best response, but I guess that'll work._

"Hey, hey, I can take your picture if you'd like," gestured Jean Pierre as he stepped in front of the girls. To everyone's amazement, his serious demeanor devolved into a cheery and charismatic one. He took their camera and began taking pictures of them. Mostly of their legs, Joaquín noticed. "Such beautiful women like you deserve only the best full body shots. Heh heh. I wanna push my way into your pretty hearts like I push this button."

 _What a ham_ , he thought exasperatedly. _It's like he's a completely different person. I've never seen anyone change moods so quickly. Man… is this what happens when you think with your dick rather than your head?_

" _Yare yare daze_ ," the brothers muttered in unison. It took a second for them to realize they said the same thing. They both looked at each other in surprise, Joaquín breaking out in laughter and Joutarou cracking a small smile. Perhaps they had a bit more in common besides looks and strength.

~+JO*JO+~

They were miles from China now. The boat they were on was surrounded by nothing but an almost endless expanse of clear, blue sea. Joaquín, who was leaning against the railing of the ship, was almost mesmerized by the sight. He now understands why Joutarou was interested in marine life. Seeing the azure waves reflecting the beautiful sky around them, he couldn't help but wonder what truly lied beneath, even though he already had a good idea.

Joaquín stretched and adjusted his trunks. He had changed to something more comfortable and appropriate for the environment he was in. Just a simple pair of black trunks accented with blue flames at the legs. He turned to look at the others who were on the deck. Joutarou and Noriaki were on reclining chairs, the latter reading a book. His grandfather was talking with Mohamed on the other side. Jean Pierre was leaning against one of the railings himself and Della was below deck.

None of them but his grandfather had changed.

Since there was nothing to worry about for the time being, Joaquín decided now was a good time to ask Jean Pierre exactly why he was in Egypt. He knew that Noriaki was on vacation and Mohamed was working in his homeland. So what lead him to travel there in the first place? There was no real need to ask a personal question like that, but he was curious. He walked over to the Frenchman and called out, " _Bonjour_. Am I saying that right?"

" _Oui_ ," said Jean Pierre with a smile. "You look ready for a swim."

"I might in a bit. The water does look pretty tempting. Wanna grab some trunks and join me?

"I would, but I'm not in the mood for a swim. Not yet, anyway. So, anything on your mind?"

"Actually, yes. It's about what you said yesterday, about Egypt. Sorry if I sound nosy, but why'd you go there? I know you mentioned some sort of investigation."

Jean Pierre turned around and leaned back, his eyes resting upon the almost empty sky. "Joaquín, do you know what it's like to wake up to change? To feel like home is no longer home? It's like waking up in a completely different world where everyone has lost their minds. Nothing is as it seems anymore as violence and drugs plague your hometown. Reports of paranormal activity tied to these crimes are published every other day like some plague. A plague of Stand users who were never born with a Stand."

"Like me and _Abuelito_ ," said Joaquín. "Sorry, please continue."

"It began two years ago in January. After Sherry's death, I tried looking around my hometown for any information on the man with two right hands. Nobody knew anything, but they did note an increase in strange activity and violence lately that may be tied to her death. So I looked into this, and what I saw disgusted me. People I had known all my life, turned to a life of crime with new-found powers. Friends gripped with a crippling addiction to drugs. It was horrible. Nobody could help them. Except me.

"I can't tell you how many users I had to fight to knock some sense into. Each one I beat, I asked what they knew about Sherry's killer and the crime wave. No luck in either field. But over time, I learned that this sudden spike in criminal activity spread throughout other parts of Europe. One man, whose Stand had been used to boil people alive with the water they drank, had given me a lead to Italy. He told me I would find answers with one of the mafias that had taken control of Naples."

"Who were they? It's not the Sicillian one, is it?"

"Passione. It's a fairly new mafia that formed that year. At first, people thought this gang was going to help Europe's drug problem. But that was a lie. They _are_ the drug problem. The man I fought was not a member of the group; however, he did warn me about confronting them. Some of Passione was composed of Stand users, each one more merciless than the other. Disregarding his warning, I took my investigation to Italy, making sure not to draw any attention to myself. It was as difficult as you could imagine.

"So did you find out anything there?"

"Not until the fall of that year. I encountered one of their so-called _capos_. An incredibly big man named Polpo. He was a secretive man; it was almost impossible to find him." He stopped for a second and chuckled. "It's funny now that I say that because he's the biggest, fattest man I've ever met."

"How big," asked a humored Joaquín.

" _Too_ big. I often ask myself how he could fit through any doors. Anyway, I found him after a while, and when I did, I cut straight to the point. I told him everything I sought to do: primarily stopping their crimes, but also find out exactly what brought them their rise to power. The man laughed and refused to tell me anything. Until I 'persuaded' him with Silver Chariot. He mentioned nothing about the crime waves, but he did give me a small hint as to where I should go next. Take a wild guess as to where.

"Egypt," answered Joaquín. "Guess that explains why you were there. You were trying to find the source of your country's problems. But you didn't find anything, did you?"

"Sadly, you're correct. My investigation was put on hold when Dio approached me." Jean Pierre crossed his arms and sighed. "But now that I'm free, I'm thinking about going to Egypt again to continue looking. More than anything, I want to discover who and what brought about such chaos in Europe and bring peace back to my homeland."

 _This man really_ is _noble_ , Joaquín couldn't help but think. _Say what we want about him ogling girls, he knows where his priorities lie. I really do hope he succeeds._

Joaquín smiled and patted his shoulder. "You're a good man, Jean Pierre. You take pride in your country. I like that. You know, if we make it out of this in one piece, maybe I could tag along to help out." He turned to look back at the deck, and what he saw next was almost heart-stopping. It wasn't anything bad, not by any means at all.

It was Della, wearing a red two-piece bikini that left nothing to the imagination. He never would have thought he'd see this much skin from her, especially since the most he had seen were those pale legs whenever she wore her large shirts to bed. She was smiling as she approached, her hair undone and fanning out behind her like a brown curtain. She looked stunning, and it was taking Joaquín all his willpower not to gawk at her like a fish.

"Hey guys," she said nonchalantly. "What do you think? I saw you change and I figured you and I could go for a swim, Jojo."

Jean Pierre let out an impressed whistle. Joaquín just kept looking at her before he shook his head and stammered, "G-G-Great. You l-look incredible."

"And you look very handsome yourself." That comment made him blush. He had heard that often from others, but it was the first time it ever came from her. "Still didn't answer me, though. Swim or no swim?"

He shook his head again, taking a moment to gain his composure. "Sure! Why not? Let's go swim!" And with that, Della ran off. Joaquín smiled and ran after her. He called over to his grandfather, "Hey, _Abuelito_ , we're going for a swim!"

"Just be careful of any sharks out there," warned Joseph casually. Sharks were the least of his worries as the two jumped over the railing and dived into the warm waters below. They swam underwater for a short minute before resurfacing. Upon doing so, Joaquín was splashed by Della, who giggled like a little girl. He didn't retaliate, but he did have a huge grin on his face. It was good that they finally had a moment to have some fun, however brief they had.

And how brief it was. For when he swan alongside his friend, he saw something over her shoulder. It was thin, sharp and darting at her. _A shark!_ He didn't say anything as he pulled her aside, a bit rougher than he wanted to.

"Ow, Jojo", she exclaimed. "What're you-"

" _¡_ _Toma!_ " Preciosa phased outwards and threw a heavy through the water. Flying out of it was the shark, bleeding from the impact. It splashed several feet away from them. Though the danger passed, Della held onto Joaquín for safety. He looked down and smiled. "It's okay, Della... You think I'm gonna let something like that spoil our-"

His eyes grew wide. There was another thing past Della's shoulder, but this time, it was no shark. Glowing from the water's surface were several yellow eyes, resting over a large, fish-like figure. There was nothing in the world that existed like this, so it had to be...

"Stand!" He grabbed Della and swam quickly towards the boat. His own Stand soon grabbed them both jumped out of the water onto the hull. He managed to stick on with his fingers and feet, hopping along to the deck as fast as he can like a frog

"J-Jojo, whats going on," asked Della in a panic.

"We have another Stand user! He's on the ship!" They managed to climb back aboard, Joaquín panting and letting go of his friend. When he looked up, he saw that his group had another problem. Between them all, there was a young girl with long hair clumsily brandishing a pocket knife at them. She didn't look like a Stand user at all, but Joaquín knew they should still be careful.

 _I'm gonna have to test her._ He stood up and helped Dela to her feet before approaching. He made sure that Preciosa was visible for her to see. If _she can see it..._

"You punks wanna talk or fight" cried out the girl, poking the air intimidatingly with her knife. Everyone, even Joseph but barring Joutarou, looked amused. "Huh? And what the fuck's a Dio? Sounds like a dumb bike brand! Come on, bring it! My knife is just begging to taste its 340th victim's blood!"

Noriaki tried to bite back his laughter as Joaquín and Della reached them. "What the hell's going on here," he asked, still panting from his escape. The girl turned to him, but her eyes held no surprise. _Looks like I'm wrong_ , he gratefully thought, for he could not see himself fighting a little girl at all.

"It's a stowaway," said Joseph sternly. "I made it perfectly clear that we did _not_ want anyone else aboard this ship except for the crew. And you know _exactly_ why."

"Why are you guys hung up on a little girl who can't even see a Stand?" They all looked shocked for a moment, now having noticed Preciosa at his side. "I can tell when someone _can_ or _can't_ see a Stand, and that girl can't. Besides, I don't think someone like her could control what almost attacked us."

"You were attacked," asked Joutarou unsurprised as he lit a cigarette in his mouth.

"Yes. It looked like a swamp monster. I almost thought it was another shark, cause we almost got attacked by one too, but no. I took Della and hauled ass back up here." He looked at the girl for a moment before turning to his grandfather. "A stowaway is the least of our problems right now. I think the Stand user that tried getting us is aboard this ship.

Joseph shook his head, but he did not look as if he hadn't thought about this. "Every man aboard this vessel has been verified," he said thoughtfully. "But we have no way of proving they are safe. Stand users aren't exactly open about their abilities…"

"So _that's_ the stowaway, huh?"

Approaching them and dragging the girl into his grip was their rather burly captain, Darryl Tennille. He was tall and imposing, a man with tired blue eyes and short blond curls upon his head, chin and over his upper lip. He gripped the struggling girl's knife hand away from him. Rather tightly if her whines of pain meant anything.

"I have a very strict policy against stowaways," he said in his hardy baritone. "Girl or not, I have to make an example, otherwise this ship would be getting even more urchins like you." The knife dropped from the girl's hand, but he still held the struggling girl. At this point, she was verbally protesting, almost on the verge of tears. Joaquín felt an uncomfortable urge to break his hands.

"That's enough," protested Della, who couldn't stand watching this either. Tenille looked up at her, his eyes not showing any emotion in them at all. But he did let her go. The girl ran over to her and immediately hid behind her. "That was very harsh of you! She's just a little girl!"

"That may be, but you seem to forget that this is _my_ ship. _I_ establish the rules here. Until we reach port, she'll be kept under bars in the cabin."

"Captain," said Joseph in a firm tone. "Let me ask you something. Did you do an accurate background check on all 10 sailors on this ship? Forgive me for asking, but my group and I have been attacked several times. I just want to be certain of our safety, is all."

"Of course. I made no mistakes. All of them are veterans aboard this vessel with over ten years of experience. There's no need to worry about any attacks, Mr. Joestar." He then approached Joutarou and suddenly snatched his cigarette out of his mouth, pointing it at him. Neither's expression changed. "By the way, smoking on deck is prohibited. What were you going to do with the ashes and butt, toss them into this beautiful sea? You might be a guest aboard this ship, but you will obey the rules, minor."

And to everyone's shock, he put out the cigarette against one of the pins on his hat, right before stowing the butt into the pocket of his _gakuran_. Joutarou made no reaction whatsoever, but Joaquín could see in his eyes that he felt suspicious about the captain. Just like _he_ did. As the captain walked away, Joutarou suddenly barked, "Hold it!" Tennille stopped and turned back to him, the stowaway back in his hands.

"Had you told me to put my cigarette out, I would have done so without question. So stop acting like you're such a big-shot, you octopus-faced prick."

The captain looked almost offended. As did Joseph, who reprimanded Joutarou. "Hey, don't be rude to the captain, Joutarou! You're the one at fault here!"

"Hmph. I know I was rude. But his little stunt made me realize that this guy isn't the captain, but the same Stand user that tried attacking my brother and Della."

Everyone looked shocked at the sudden accusation. The captain looked confused, unaware of what he was talking about. Mohamed then spoke up in disbelief. "But… that is impossible, Jojo. Captain Tennille was introduced to us by the Speedwagon Foundation. His identity was confirmed by them. He is a trustworthy person. The chances of him being a Stand user is a clear zero."

"Didn't you hear what _jijii_ said? We can't just trust the word of people who can't see Stands."

"Wait a moment, please," said a scandalized Tennille. "I have no idea what you're going on about. What's all this talk about… What was it? Stands?"

"Jojo, you may have a point, but you can't just make careless guesses like that," said Jean Pierre.

" _Joutarou, you got a way of proving that_ ," asked Joaquín, his tone steady and his eyes on nobody but the confused captain. He really wanted to see just what he had in mind to weed out a Stand user.

"Of course. And it's the reason I've been smoking our whole trip. It's how I found out how to figure out who's a user. And that is, if one inhales even the slightest amount of tobacco smoke," Joutarou touches his nose slightly, "a blood vessel shows up on the tip of their nose."

Everyone except Joaquín and the confused girl touched their noses in shock. Jean Pierre frantically demanded, "You can't be serious! Please tell us you're lying, Joutarou!"

"Yeah, that's right. However, it looks like we've caught our idiot"

There was a collective gasp as everyone turned to the captain. He had touched his nose as well. Joaquín felt something boiling inside him. It wasn't so much that he was a Stand user, but rather, because his friend was almost hurt because of him. The captain, having been revealed, took off his cap and chuckled.

"Clever," he said, his voice now sounding more relaxed and cool. He didn't seem too bothered that his cover was blown. "Very clever. Yes, I'm not the captain. Dio sent me here to kill you all. The real one is resting in Hong Kong's seafloor."

" _Maldita sea_ ," growled Joaquín. "You better prepare yourself, _cabrón_ , because when we're done with you, you're gonna be resting in the hottest pits of Hell!"

"Heh… I don't think so…"

There was a sudden scream from behind them. They all turned and saw something blue and scaled spin through the air and land on the railing behind the impostor. It was large and dark blue, covered in pale armor that exposed its scaly skin. Upon its head were four yellow eyes and a large, crimson mark that looked like a splash of blood.

And swiping into its arms was-

"DELLA," cried out everyone.

"Troubled waters! Lies and betrayal! And fear of the world of the unknown! These are the qualities of the card "The Moon". This is Dark Blue Moon!" Della struggled to break free, but the grip around her was too strong. "I wasn't expecting seven of you. I can't exactly afford to hide anymore. I was going to get rid of you one by one, but given that I've been exposed, I guess I'll have to take you all on at once."

Now Joaquín was fuming. He had captured Della. And he knew he had no intention of letting her free. That didn't stop the dangerous growl of, "Let my friend go, you freak," escape his lips.

The impostor smirked. "I don't think so. You see, I plan on taking her with me into these shark-infested waters. Perhaps give my Stand a little feast. And I know you'll just dive right in after me. Six against one in my own playing field? Heh. You don't have a chance. That's what I predict, anyway." The oversized fish had turned, preparing to jump. "I heard your Preciosa is fast, but Dark Blue Moon is fastest underwater. Would you like to prove me wrong? You're more than welcome to try."

"I don't need to try. I _know_ I'm faster than you!" Both he and Preciosa rushed at the captain. They tackled the fake captain and Stand at full force, the man reacting too slow to jump off on his own. Preciosa ripped Della from the Stand's arms and threw her away from it as the two users went over the railing into the sea below. He immediately began punching at every part of the impostor he could see. He wanted to hurt him. He wanted him to bleed.

 _I'm going to make him pay for touching Della!_

But as he punched him, he felt his punches slowing down. It had nothing to do with the water, but some other force, as if his arms were being covered by something heavy. He felt himself growing weaker. When Joaquín turned back to Preciosa, he was shocked to see barnacles growing on his arms. He didn't pay attention to when his Stand was fighting. He must have gotten them from touching Dark Blue Moon. At least, that's what he assumed.

The fake Tennille chuckled through the use of his Stand. "You've entered Dark Blue Moon's dominion, fool," he said with a smirk. "How do you like my Stand's ability? Just one touch and you become covered in barnacles. And there's nothing you can do to stop them from multiplying and sapping your power. You may as well just accept death, kid."

Did the fake captain truly think he was going to beat him with just barnacles? He had no idea who he was dealing with. If he didn't have Preciosa, Joaquín would sill be able to kick some serious ass. After all, he was not a normal man.

Before he had dived in, Joaquín had taken in a deep breath. He knew that, if something happened to Preciosa, he could just use his _hamon_ to strike him down. Seeing that his Stand couldn't fight at the moment, he had the perfect opportunity to do this. With a focused exhale, he felt warmth throughout his body. Sparks began emanating, shining brightly for the confused impostor to witness. All of his power was focused into his arms.

"CRESCENT _AZUL_ OVERLOAD!"

Joaquín crossed his arms with whatever strength he had left. A fast and sharp crescent wave of _hamon_ -infused water rushed directly at the captain. As before, he was too slow to react. The blade made its mark and sliced open his neck, leaving him in total shock and pain. He tried saying something as he vainly tried to stop the profuse bleeding, but his voice was muffled by the water. There was nothing he could do to stop the biting ocean water from filling his lungs now.

As the captain slowly choked before him, Dark Blue Moon faded away. The barnacles on Preciosa's arm broke off, his strength slowly coming back. Joaquín approached the dying captain and coldly looked at him. He was very tempted to unleash his Stand on him, to punch him straight to hell. Anyone who touched his best friend deserved to be beaten into oblivion. But just this once, he decided not to finish the job. There were better ways to dispose of trash.

The sharks could see to that.

 _Your little prediction didn't come to pass_ , he thought with contempt. _Trying to make a prophecy in front of a prophet? You're ten years too late for that one. Have fun sleeping with the fishes._ And with that, Joaquín turned and left the captain to his impending demise.

~+JO*JO+~

"What would happen if you stored the memories and Stand of one person into another?"

"Then, like me, they would be able to read those memories and use that Stand. Their control over the Stand may not be as proficient as the original user, but the fact of the matter is that they can use it. However, there is a limit. On a fundamental level, only one disc can be inserted at a time. Even if you were to force more, the most that could be inserted is five... If I may pry, why do you ask me this?"

"... There might be a method to reach heaven.

"... Hey now... Don't make such a queer face. This 'heaven' I speak of is a heaven of the mind. A place where your spirit shall head to... I do not mean for you to die, however. The power of your spirit... It is necessary for it to evolve. The place where it shall ascend to is what I mean. That is where I believe true happiness lies... Within that 'heaven' I hope to reach.

"I understand that happiness cannot be achieved through invulnerability, riches, or standing at the apex of men. However, the true victor, the one who achieves true happiness, is the one who sees 'heaven'… I shall reach it... No matter what sacrifice I must make...

"... And what kind of method is this, specifically... Dio?"

~THE FAKE CAPTAIN DARRYL TENNILLE (1940-1988): RIP. DINNER FOR THE SHARKS~


	12. Scary Hours

Ch. 12  
Scary Hours

DECEMBER 2ND, 1988  
10:00  
CAIRO, EGYPT

"Lady Enya... I must ask you... What does it mean to live?"

"... To obtain what you desire. That is simply all it means for people to live. They want fortune, fame, food, love... A lover, even... Mundane things..."

"... But in order to attain such desires, one must fight for it, correct, Lady Enya?"

"Certainly..."

"However, should one fall in battle, then they cannot achieve anything... They are left wounded, a bitter taste of defeat and frustration lingering in their mouth... Should they reenter the fray in such a state, fear overtakes their senses...To me, overcome fear is what it means to live… Tell me, do you know who stands at the very apex of the world..?! Those who haven't the faintest shred of fear in their hearts! That's who! Do you understand my words, Lady Enya..?!"

"Absolutely. However, do not forget that I have granted you knowledge of Stands and have awakened and taught you to control yours. What's more, you have been gifted with an immortal body... Is there truly anything you have to fear, Lord Dio?"

"... Perhaps."

"... What concerns you?"

"The Joestar lineage."

"Ha! The Joestars? Those three?! They are worthless! They can't possibly measure up to your Stand!"

"Hm... However, I, Dio, think it impossible for that family's involvement in my life to be anything else than fate. It is not the Joestars themselves I fear, by no means at all. Rather, it is their underestimatable nature. I have lost several times because I took Johnathan's resolve for granted. Never again. It is of utmost necessity that they are removed from the gears of my fate."

"And do you reckon you will go after them for that very reason, Lord Dio?"

"Unfortunately."

"Nonsense! You mustn't act so foolhardy! As we speak, several of my Stand users are making their way to Singapore to eliminate them! And one of them... is my own son! Should the others fail, my son's right hands shall kill them all! There's no need for you to soil your holy hands, Lord Dio! Hee hee hee!

"... Hmph. Such a strange old woman... Tell me... What is it that _you_ desire..?"

"As I have said many times, I wish only to be by your side. To see what becomes of your life. And your Stand. That is all And yours... Yours has tremendous power. It gives you the luck to escape all obstacles standing in your path. Your very life has been influenced by it! This Stand, akin to a true guardian spirit, will live up to its name and control the entire world! I believe it to be so!

"... As do I..."

~+JO*JO+~

Back when she was little, Della Brown had always wanted to take a cruise. It didn't matter to her where she went, as long as she got a chance to see the ocean. She had been surrounded by cityscapes her entire life, and while she liked it, she wanted to travel. Della wanted to feel her hair tousled by a stray breeze and her nose to be filled with the scent of salt water hanging in the air. Just to be at peace riding along the wind and tides.

So when Mr. Joestar said they would be taking a ship, she couldn't be any happier.

Well, she _would_ be happier if their ship hadn't blown up.

Earlier that day, the ship began to explode under their feet. It just so happened that the man posing as Captain Tennille had prepared for his own death and planted several bombs within the ship, ready to go off several minutes ahead. It was quite jarring for them, considering that nobody knew about them; not that they could have disarmed them had they did. As soon as they went off, everyone prepared to abandon ship. They set off flares and escaped on lifeboats just in time before the proud, flaming vessel sank.

It was five in the afternoon now. Della and the group were waiting patiently on their lifeboat, their luggage miraculously saved before the sinking. The sailors were flashing lights out into the ocean in every direction they could, signaling for any ship that might see it from a distance. Everyone except Jojo, Mr. Joestar, herself, and the girl (who introduced herself as Anne) was asleep. She was resting her head tiredly against her friend as she watched the two talk.

"Here," said Mr. Joestar as he handed Anne a canteen of water. "You ought to drink up. It's going to be a while longer before a ship shows up to rescue us. We've sent out all the signals we could."

Anne drank in silence before handing the water back. "You guys... aren't exactly who I thought you were. All I heard was that you were going to Singapore. I thought you were all just regular tourists."

"Regular isn't the best way to describe us."

"I know. That captain, these 'Stands' you told me about, Della floating around..." She looked at her and Jojo with confused blue eyes before turning back to the senior. "Just who are you guys?"

Mr. Joestar crossed his arms and leaned back. "We're on a trip, just like you. But for different reasons. While you're doing it to find your father, we're doing it to save my daughter."

"And we can't be putting innocent lives like yours at risk," said Jojo, eyeing the girl seriously. "Listen, not to sound rude, but I personally don't believe your story. Normally, I wouldn't have a problem with this, but... This is a very dangerous trip. A man all the way in Egypt, who's got this major grudge against my family, made my mother deathly ill. And he's sending assassins to take us out. He won't stop until we're dead, even if it means killing our friends and a little girl."

While Della would have scolded him, she felt he had a point. _Jojo's right. We're trying to avoid casualties. The plane ride was horrible enough, but they were adults who were right with us. We were lucky to save most of them. T_ _his is a little girl. She barely looks like she's thirteen. I don't want her dead any more than Jojo does._ And that was the biggest thing she liked about Jojo. He always cared for others, no matter who they were.

Anne looked away grumpily. _She knows he's right too, even if she won't admit it._ She was about to say something when she turned back to him, but stopped. Della didn't need to wonder why, as she saw the gigantic shadow looming over her and the others It looked very ship-like. She and Jojo, who she was sure to have noticed as well, turned around and gasped.

"E-E-Everyone," exclaimed Della. "Everyone, wake up! It's here! We're saved!"

The others had woken up and were just as surprised as Della. Before them was a titanic freighter. It was old, it was gigantic, and it looked powerful. Written on the side in large letters was the most fitting name for such a vessel: Big Daddy.

" _A-A freighter_ ," said Noriaki in a shaky but excited voice. " _How did we not notice it?_ "

"Maybe it was waiting for us to get closer," said Mohamed in wonder

"It must have! Look!" Mr. Joestar pointed up at the ship's side. A ramp was being lowered for them. This ship must have seen their signals and came. They really were saved. Jojo summoned Preciosa and used him to push their boat closer to the ramp. Hierophant Green was over by the other boat full of sailors and helped push them closer. Everyone looked relieved. Everyone, Della noticed, except Joutarou.

His face was stoic as always. Unlike his brother, she couldn't tell what he was feeling. His emotions were so perfectly hidden behind his walls. But all walls have a crack in it somewhere. And for him, it was his eyes were the crack. They lacked the dull and uncaring look they always had. Now, they were filled with suspicion, just like she had noticed around the fake captain from earlier. Della asked him, "Joutarou, what's wrong? You don't think a Stand user's on this freighter, do you?"

"No," said Joutarou calmly. "I was just wondering why nobody showed their faces when the ramp came down."

He was right. As they got out of their lifeboats, Della noticed nobody stood nearby to greet them. It was very odd, but she had to silently agree with him. Jean Pierre, however, looked scandalized as he was walking up the steps.

"What are you talking about, it came to rescue us," he said behind him. "There have to be people aboard. And even if all of them were Stand users, I'm still getting on."

And Jean Pierre was right, too. So what if there was the possibility that the entire crew was an army of Stand users? All of her friends were more than capable of beating them into oblivion. Nobody was afraid to enter another battle. Especially Jojo. There was a fire in his eyes, as though he was itching to unleash Preciosa against someone. Another admirable trait her best friend had.

With everyone aboard, they began looking all around the ship. As Joutarou suspected, there was nobody whatsoever on deck. Not even within the control room, which was the first place Mr. Joestar led them to investigate. All the meters and lights were all working properly, which seemed to shake him somewhat.

"There's no sign of a captain or a crew," he muttered. "Just where could everyone be?"

"Maybe they've all come down with a bad case of diarrhea," said Jean Pierre begrudgingly."

"At the same time? Unlikely." He then stepped out of the room and began calling out. "HEY! ANYBODY HERE? WHERE IS EVERYONE?"

Nothing. No response. _Perhaps they're below deck._ Just as Della was about to suggest looking below, Anne had popped around a corner. 'Hey, guys, you ought to come and see this, she called to them and motioned for them to follow her. When they did, they came upon an empty room, housing a large cage. It was not empty. Sitting unperturbed inside was an orangutan: big, fat and covered in red fur. Della was amazed. She had only ever seen one back at the Central Park Zoo.

"Wow," whispered Della, standing outside the entrance to the lone chamber. Looking closer at the simian, she noticed just how healthy he looked. _So somebody_ is _here_ , she thought curiously. "Where's his caretaker? If this guy's here, then there has to be someone looking after him..."

"None of this makes any sense," said Jojo in annoyance. "Either we're being punked or something really bad happened here."

Mr. Joestar nodded as he turned back to the sailors standing nearby. "Comb the ship. We need to- LOOK OUT!"

Everyone turned around. As if things were going in slow motion, one of the cranes dropped down behind one of the sailors. The hook crashed right through the back of his head and out his mouth. He was mercilessly pulled up by it, twitching and dying right before them. Everyone was horrified, except Joutarou, who shielded poor Anne's vision from the gruesome accident.

"Good grief," he said with disgust and disappointment in his voice. "This isn't the type of welcome for a little girl."

The remaining sailors were panicking. None of them were near any levers or machinery to control the crane. As if they would want to kill one of their own. Della and her group gave each other concerned looks. They seemed to be thinking the same awful thing as her. _There's death hanging in the air. This ship isn't gonna save us. It's gonna kill us. There has to be a Stand user hiding here. Or perhaps several._ And yet, as they looked around, they couldn't see or sense any Stand nearby.

"Forget about finding a crew or captain," said Jojo, still eyeing the dead sailor and shivering. "We need to look around every nook and cranny for a user. There just has to be one. Noriaki, your Hierophant Green can crawl through enclosed spaces. And his range is pretty good." The teen nodded and summoned his Stand, who immediately slid his body through one of the ships grates. Meanwhile, Della went over to Anne, who had left Joutarou's side and was hiding beside the entrance of the orangutan's chamber.

Anne looked up at her and whispered. "Why are all these horrible things happening? A fake captain, people dying... It's because of that Dio, isn't it?"

"Unfortunately, Anne," said Della consolingly, putting a hand to her shoulder. "But listen. For now, while you're with us, with Joutarou, Jojo, the others, and me, you're safe. We're not gonna let anything bad happen to you."

"Promise?"

"Absolutely. You have our word, Anne."

"Hey, don't touch any of those machines," called out Mr. Joestar with authority to the sailors, who were looking over a heavy piece of on-deck machinery. "Anything operated by electricity is a danger here We can't trust anything aboard this ship!"

The sailors were all muttering rather mutinous things within earshot of Mr. Joestar. Sure, they knew more than him, but their lives were in danger. They had to understand. But they didn't. Now annoyed, he practically shouted, "You idiots listen here! If you value your lives, you will do as I say! Do _not_ touch any machinery and head to the cabin below deck for your safety! I don't want any more men dying today! Do you understand?!"

The message finally got through to them, and the sailors silently made their way below deck. Della turned back to Anne and whispered, "Listen, we're all gonna look for the Stand user. Hopefully, we'll find them before the sun goes down. They may not be vampires, but it's better we do all this while we still have daylight."

Anne nodded and hugged the woman, who returned it. When Della looked over her shoulder, she saw the orangutan looking back at her. He slipped a long arm through the bars and pointed at the lock hanging over the cage. She responded with, "No, we don't have the key. We need to find your keeper." Anne let go and turned to the simian, who reached behind him and pulled out a perfect and recently sliced apple. It looked too perfect for an orangutan to do on his own.

The two girls carefully approached him, stopping a few inches from his arms reach. Orangutans were powerful creatures, and Della did not want to be torn apart. But it didn't look like he would attack. "Is there anyone here," asked Anne quizzically. "Anyone who feeds you?" The orangutan didn't respond, instead choosing to pull out a cigarette and a match from his fur. He struck the match and lit up for a smoke. _He sure is smart_ , she thought, rather impressed. _Perhaps he works as a circus act._

Then, as if they weren't there, he pulled out a magazine from himself. On its cover was Jessica Rabbit, or at least someone dressed like her, from this year's hit summer movie. It was a Playboy. And he flipped it sideways to reveal the centerfold of a beautiful woman in a white, dotted coat left open to reveal her nude form. He seemed to be enjoying the sight, which was quite odd for an orangutan. It sent an unnerving shiver down Della's spine.

"L-Let's go, Anne," Della said hurriedly. "These things are a bit dangerous. Come on." She led the young girl out of the chamber. She did not want to be in the same vicinity as that simian for a while. Just seeing him ogle that woman like that made her feel uncomfortable, vulnerable, before the beast. Turning back. she could have sworn the orangutan was looking at her, and no longer at last month's centerfold.

~+JO*JO+~

It was an hour later. The sun was setting, casting shades of orange and pink in the west as the east was dominated by a slowly darkening indigo. The sailors were still below deck, trying to test a radio they managed to find earlier. Mr. Joestar had allowed them to do so, deeming it safe enough. The group above had now congregated above deck. None of them had any luck. Noriaki and Hierophant Green had the worst of it.

" _I've checked in every possible corner of this ship_ ," he said in mild frustration. " _I've even sent him through all the grates, the air vents, and even the pipes. And I've found nothing. This just doesn't make any sense at all. The only sign of life I could find is that orangutan, and he's locked in his cage._ "

" So what, are you saying this ship just came to us on its own," said Jean Pierre, trying to steady his voice. "That it's haunted or something?"

"Impossible," said Mr. Joestar. "There's no such thing as-"

" _Connerie_! We have _Stands_! We're hunting a _vampire_! If things like that exist, who's to say ghosts don't?! To hell with this, I'm going to keep looking!" The scared Frenchman turned on his heel and left them. Jojo was about to say something, but Mr. Avdol simply shook his head. It was better to let him cool off. Seeing the sun already setting made Della feel tired. Sleep was, unfortunately, out of the question in this situation, so she decided the best thing to do for the moment was to take a shower.

"Hey Anne, do you wanna take a shower with me," she asked the young girl.

"Sure", she replied with a smile. "I kinda forgot to when we left China." Della took her hand and led her inside and down below. It seemed rather peaceful and quiet, the only sounds being the ship operating and the sailors working with the radio. They managed to find one of the showers, but it was placed rather close to the room where the men congregated in. Della had to step in and explain to them what they were doing. None of them were interested, absorbed in their work.

She sure was thankful there was running water. She really wanted to get the smell of saltwater off her skin. While they waited for the water to heat up, the two undressed and talked. Della turned to Anne as she undid her bikini and asked, "So, is Jojo right? Are you lying about finding your dad?"

"Why do you think I'm lying," Anne nearly shouted, taking her overalls off. "I'm looking for my dad in Singapore. He left us and I'm worried about him."

"Anne, your ears are turning red. I'm not like Jojo or his supersleuth brother Joutarou, but I'm smart enough to know when someone's lying. I won't be mad if you tell the truth and neither will they.

Anne stood silently defiant. But after gazing into her kind eyes, she deflated and looked down. "I'm sorry. Yes, it's a lie. I.. I wanted to travel the world. I wanted to see all the different countries there are to see. But my family is too poor, and... they'll always be too poor. When I saw you and your friends talk about taking a boat, I got excited. I saw it as my chance to leave and finally start making my dream a reality."

"Well, that explains a lot. Except for the disguise."

"I thought dressing up as a boy would make things easier." The two stepped under the shower-head and began to bathe. "It's not easy for a girl to travel on her own."

"Good point. But, Jojo was right. This is a dangerous journey. People have died, _are_ dying, because of us... And we don't wanna endanger anyone any more than we already have. Listen, when we get to Singapore, we're gonna send you back. You'll have time to build up for a real adventure, one without the danger we're facing. You understand?"

Anne nodded, knowing that he was defeated. She stood silent for a moment as they washed up. It was as they did their hair that she said, "So, speaking of Jojo, do you like him?"

An embarrassed silence was all Anne got for an answer. It was the last thing she was expecting to be asked. But it wasn't like she hadn't thought about it. She wouldn't tell her or anyone else, but the truth was, she actually did. Jojo, to her, was a very passionate man. He was carefree, loyal, fierce, brave. A lot of positive things, really. Jojo wasn't afraid to show his emotions, neither was he afraid to protect the ones he cared for. And what he cared for was his friends and family.

 _And me, of course._

Ever since she had met Jojo, things had been rather different. Before she met him that fateful day, she wasn't too social. She never really hung out with her few friends or at least initiated a conversation with them. Besides work and her little hobbies here and there, life wasn't too exciting. But then she met him, and every day since had become its own adventure. And despite the situations she landed in, she was happy to share them with him.

When did she begin liking him? She supposed it was after that one day they went out to dinner and that scrawny man and his Stand attacked. He protected her, just as that man was about to go after her for distracting him from her friend. Della didn't ask him to. Jojo just did it. And even if she did endanger herself then, he didn't reprimand her. Instead, he checked to see if she was hurt. She felt... important. Safe. Perhaps loved. And she had never felt that way with anyone else.

Except from her parents. And, perhaps, her childhood friend. But to think about _that_ was too painful.

 _You know, maybe I_ can _tell her about what I feel_ , she contemplated. _She doesn't look like a snitch._ She turned to her and was about to speak, but she quickly froze. Over her shoulder, she saw that someone was standing by the now shut door where the sailors were behind. But it was none of them. Nor was it one of her friends. Anyone of them would have been better than who she saw.

It was the orangutan. He was free from his cage. She didn't have time to wonder how he escaped when she saw his rather bloody hands. Given where he stood, she didn't have to guess who that blood belonged to.

 _The sailors_...

Anne, confused, turned around and gasped when she saw the simian, who looked over the girls. There was a hungry look in his eyes that Della knew had nothing to do with food. She had never felt so exposed in her entire life. But while she was trembling hard, something flared inside Della. It was a feeling she knew Jojo felt all the time. A need to protect, driven by insane bravery. As if her body were being controlled by someone other than herself, Della moved over to stand protectively in front of her little friend.

"Get away from us, you filthy monster," she hissed in defiance.

The orangutan stepped closer, growling as he knew he was going to have to fight and get his hands dirtier to get what he wanted. Della was by no means a fighter, but she was ready to attack with everything she had. He took another step and screeched before raising his massive arms. Before Della could throw a punch, she saw another figure step behind him, turn him around, and smash a heavy lock right over his head.

It was Jojo. And he looked pissed.

"Here's your fucking lock, _mono_ ," he yelled as he threw it at him, striking his face again. Della has never been happier to see him. He turned back to them and his expression softened. He was smiling at her, which made her feel safe again. "You were actually gonna fight, Della?"

"Well, what else was I supposed to do," she asked with a smirk. She then remembered that she was naked. Absolutely naked. In front of her friend. She hastily tried covering herself up with the shower curtain, but she was so flustered that she kept fumbling with it.

"Here, let me." Jojo summoned Preciosa, who tore apart the curtain in half. He then carefully tied it around both the girl's bodies to save their modesty. While Della was red and embarrassed, Jojo was unfazed. And here she expected him to flip out or get a nosebleed like in the Japanese comics she once read from Joutarou's small collection. But he just gave her an endearing look and said, "I'm proud that you tried defending yourself. Now come on. We gotta warn the others about-"

He instinctively spun around. Preciosa moved and blocked an oncoming kick from the animal. Despite the injury, he looked pretty stable. Before the frog-like Stand attacked, an overhead fan fell and dug itself into Jojo's shoulder. The girls gasped and the simian chuckled at his prey's misfortune. Della knew the fan didn't just drop on its own from age. Not without warning. That was when she made a horrific realization: _This orangutan is the Stand user we were looking for._

Before she could even warn Jojo, the fan's blades bent and smacked itself off, sending Jojo flying down the hall and through a door. The orangutan lunged after, and the girls gave chase. A nearby window suddenly broke and began sending shards of glass his way. Preciosa, still by his side, used his fast reflexes to catch the shards of glass between his fingers. When the two landed, the Stand threw a glass-covered punch at his attacker. But the fist didn't hit the orangutan, but rather the wall.

The orangutan in question had melded with the steel wall of the corridor, laughing as he phased right through. "Shit," cursed Jojo. "This fucker's the Stand user. But... I couldn't see his Stand. When he smashed that window and broke the fan. Della, did you see anything?"

"No, I didn't," she said with worry in her voice now. "I mean, it felt like there was a Stand, but there was nothing there."

"Maybe," spoke up Anne, confused and rather scared, "you guys have already seen it."

 _No_ , she fearfully thought. _That's impossible_. But Della knew she was right. _There's no other reason for anything we've seen to be moving on its own. There isn't a Stand controlling the ship. The Stand_ is _the ship._ Upon this frightening realization, the ship began to creak. Pipes materialized from the wall, a nearby fire hose snaked about, and all of them ensnared Jojo. They held him to the wall, where half of his body disappeared to. He tried to free himself, but he couldn't.

"Oh man," he muttered, pain in his voice. "It's crushing me... Della, Anne, don't get close. He might do the same to you." As if on cue, the orangutan slipped out from the opposite wall. And now, he was wearing a white captain's jacket and hat. He was smoking a pipe and flipping through a pocket dictionary. Della noticed there was a name-tag on his jacket reading "Forever". _That must be his name._ He stopped halfway through the dictionary and showed it to her, pointing to a word in the S section.

Della approached slowly and read what word he landed on. It was "strength". Force, energy, power, aid. And it was the eighth card in the Major Arcana. It represented a challenge, strong will, and hidden instincts. This had to be the Stand's name as well. It was fitting for this orangutan, who acted like a normal yet intelligent animal. His species was powerful, and this very ship exuded so much power with its appearance alone. She had to wonder just how they were going to beat such a strong user.

Forever looked at her with those lustful eyes and winked suggestively. And this time, Della didn't back away. She slapped him hard for that. The orangutan growled, but before he could strike, he winced in annoyance. Something else hit him on his forehead. He looked down and picked up a small, black button. It was from Jojo's trunks. While Forever was distracted, he must have used Preciosa to tear off the unnecessary button to throw it. And this seemed to have the desired effect he wanted.

"That wasn't a part of your Stand," he said with a chuckle. "I figured that I can't exactly use the ship to attack you. You have full control over that." Forever was now huffing and twitching in anger that something besides the humans or Preciosa could harm him. Now Jojo was talking to him mockingly, almost like he was bullying a baby. "Aw, what's wrong, _mono_? Did I wound your pride? Or maybe you don't have any. A foul beast like you could never have pride."

That did it. Forever howled in rage and lunged. Preciosa, despite having been partially absorbed into the wall, had the use of one of its arms. He delivered a powerful punch right into the raging orangutan's face, almost crumpling it as he was knocked away a few feet. That blow must have been pretty powerful, for Jojo and his Stand were freed from their binds. With nothing holding him back, he and his Stand approached Forever. The orangutan's demeanor had now completely changed when he saw him looming over him.

Della saw it in his face. He was mortified.

Forever quickly opened his jacket and exposed his stomach to Jojo. And he was greeted to a brief chuckle. "You know, I heard animals show their stomach whenever they're attacked as a sign of surrender. So, I guess you're asking for forgiveness?" Forever nodded. "Sorry, but I can't. You see, you kinda fucked with the rules when it comes to acting like a proper animal. You should have been more docile. You should have left us alone. Especially these girls... There's a special place for animals like you…

"It's called Hell."

And with that, Preciosa wasted no time in pummeling the perverted Stand user into oblivion. It took a few seconds, but once he had finished, Forever was a bleeding mess that was swiftly punched out of the corridor. The girls cheered for Jojo and ran to hug him, but they stopped in their tracks. The ship was beginning to shake. The walls were twisting and breaking apart. With Forever dead, the Stand that was Strength was falling apart.

"Jojo," exclaimed Della. "We've gotta get out of here! And quickly!"

He didn't need telling twice. Jojo took their hands and ran with them out of the corridor. They reached the deck of the ship, where their group had gotten into a lifeboat.

"We have to go" called out Mr. Avdol. "Hurry!"

Once they were securely inside, Jojo turned to Joutarou and practically yelled, "Get Star Platinum out! We're chucking us out of here!" He nodded, and Star Platinum and Preciosa grabbed the lifeboat. With a cry of "BRACE YOURSELVES," the two Stands threw them all off the sinking vessel. Mr. Joestar and Anne screamed the whole way before landing safely on the water almost a mile away. They landed with a great splash, soaking everyone in the salty brine.

 _So much for my shower_ , lamented Della, as she took a moment to look back at the twisting mess that was once the ship. It slowly crumpled in on itself until there was nothing left except for a shoddy little dinghy. Everyone who wasn't Joutarou and his brother was shaken up. None more so than Mr. Avdol.

"I cannot believe it," he said shakily. "That orangutan crossed the ocean on his own Stand. This is the first time I have seen anything so horrifically powerful."

"We were completely overwhelmed," said Mr. Joestar. "We were all trapped in the floor. Even Joutarou couldn't break free. Had Joaquín not gone after that monkey, there's no doubt we wouldn't have escaped. It makes me wonder if we'll meet more Stand users like him."

"Of course we are," said Jojo warily. "And their Stands don't even need to be as big or powerful as that ship. It could be as small as an ant and be just as deadly, if not deadlier. On top of that, there's also Dio's Stand. If he could send the fucking Titanic after us, then we can only imagine just how frightful _his_ truly is."

Nobody said anything. They knew he was right, and it did not make them feel any better. They were wet, tired, pained, and hungry. The last thing anyone wanted was a fresh reminder that there were more fearsome opponents yet to come. Especially Della, who was nearly raped by an orangutan. While she was not shaken by the events that transpired, she did worry somewhat about the future. How many more Stand users would try to take advantage of her? She didn't know. And she didn't care.

Because Stand or not, she would not back down from a fight.

As she rested her head on Jojo, she watched the others with tired, bleary eyes. Noriaki combed his hair, Joutarou tried lighting up a cigarette, and Jean Pierre offered everyone some gum. Mr. Avdol and Joestar remained silent and Anne was trying to fall asleep. It was funny how the entire day came to a full circle. It began on this very lifeboat waiting to be rescued by a ship and it ended as such. _If this is fate_ , ruefully thought Della, _then I want to have a serious conversation with the one running the show._

"Hey, Della?"

It was Jojo, who was whispering somewhat. He sounded quite content given their current situation.

"Yes, Jojo," she asked, looking up at him tiredly

"You did good today." He then draped his arm over her, which prompted her to wrap hers over his midsection comfortingly. "I'm very proud of you, Della."

Her heart fluttered at the praise. With all that had happened today, she felt rather proud. With a quite "Thank you," Della nestled against her friend and drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

 _Thank you so much, Jojo…_

~FOREVER (1954-1988): RIP~


	13. Graveyard

Ch. 13  
Graveyard

DECEMBER 3RD, 1988  
11:14  
ROCHOR, SINGAPORE

Once upon a time, there was a prince named Sang Nila Utama, who hailed from the island country of Sumatra. One day, on a hunting trip with his men, he came upon a stag and chased it atop a small hill. There was no sign of the stag, but there was a large and climbable rock. Compelled to scale the rock, he made his way to the top and beheld across the sea an island whose sand was as white as a sheet of cloth. The prince sailed to the island with his men, surviving a nasty storm along their journey.

Upon landing safely on the beach, they began to hunt for wild animals near the mouth of a river on a patch of land that would later become known as the Padang. It was here that the prince beheld a strange and fast animal with a white breast. The beast had disappeared into the jungle. Fascinated by this, he asked his chief minister what he had seen. It was a lion, which he saw as an omen of oncoming good luck. Thus, he remained on the island and built a new city upon it, naming it after the lion he witnessed:

Singapura.

Well, that was what the brochure Joaquín was given had read. And the picture on the front, a beautiful city surrounded by water, perfectly matched his surroundings. If it weren't for the fact he would probably be living in Japan, Singapore was the type of place he'd want to live in. It reminded him of New York, only somehow cleaner. He wondered if it was due in part of stricter laws than back in America.

It was around sunrise when they were all rescued. A freighter managed to pick up their distress signals and brought them all aboard. The captain was friendly and none of the crew were Stand users, which they were all thankful for. They were all able to get themselves cleaned and into fresh clothes (Joaquín returned to his casual clothing and Della to her red tunic) before being dropped off along a port. From there, they opted to walk through the city than take a taxi. For exercising purposes.

Lunchtime was rolling around as they were making their way to the Shangri La Hotel, which was suggested to his grandfather's by a friend. They had plans to stay there for at least two days in order to plan out their next route. With less than two blocks away, the group had to stop, for Jean Pierre had decided to catch his breath.

" _Monsieur_ Joestar," he panted as he dropped his bag of luggage, "Why couldn't you have chosen a closer hotel? There were so many over at that Marina Center."

"This one's a nice one," said Joseph. "And cheap for all of us. Trust me, those other hotels can be pretty pricey."

"But aren't you rich? What should it matter if we take a more expensive one?"

He had a point. But as much as he would want to relax in the most comfortable hotel there is here, they couldn't be wasting money like crazy. The money they all had needed to last them through their journey. _This isn't a vacation_ , thought Joaquín. And before he said anything, a loud, angry whistle rang out behind them. They turned to see a police officer running and pointing at them. More specifically at Jean Pierre.

The officer stopped and pointed to his luggage. "You," he barked. "Can't you read the sign?!" He pointed again, this time to a nearby sign with a hand dropping a tissue. It had a line across it, and the message was clear. "No littering! Singapore is a trash-free country, and you will be fined 500 Singapore dollars!"

Jean Pierre looked down to make sure he was actually talking about the bag of clothes he had. His rather offended look almost made Mohamed laugh. He then got into the officer's face and said silkily. "Sorry, but all I see is my luggage. Don't tell me you think my luggage is garbage." Now the officer looked embarrassed as Jean Pierre put his arm around him and smiled dangerously. "Tell me again. Is this garbage?"

"T-This is your luggage," asked the officer with a nervous chuckle. "S-Sorry about that! I'll let you go!" And he ran off, leaving the group to chuckle over the events that transpired. Even Joutarou smirked. But Joaquín noticed that one of them had not joined in on the humor. He looked over and saw a rather downcast Anne, sitting along the retaining wall by the sidewalk and not looking at anyone. It was easy for him to understand what was upsetting her.

Moving away from his friends and family, he went over to Anne and knelt at eye level with her. " _Oye, mirame_ ," he said in Spanish.

"What," Anne asked in toneless confusion.

"I said look at me. Please?" She turned her blue eyes to his own. "Good. I know you're kinda let down about going home. But listen. I don't want you going back feeling like you'll never do this again. Because you will. Wanna know how you'll do it?" Anne nodded silently. "You work for it. Make a plan. Don't go half-cocked like you just did, and not with a bunch of strangers who you didn't even know what they were doing. You gotta do this on your own. Got it, Anne?"

She nodded, but it did nothing to lift her spirits. He didn't want her last day with them to be a sour one. So Joaquín then said, "I'll tell you what. Once all this is over, I'll come back to find you. Then you, me, and Della can go on a little trip. I'll take you to a few places. Even New York, where me and my _abuelito_ live. Would you like that?"

"You'd do that?" And Anne's eyes immediately lit up.

"Of course. I'm not one to go back on my word." He looked behind him and saw Jean Pierre raised a shaved eyebrow as if he thought he was lying. "I mean it. Don't give me that look, you French-fried Romeo."

And that playful insult was enough to make Anne giggle and Jean Pierre pout in mock insult. Joaquín felt happier to know he succeeded in cheering her up. And he really did mean what he said. _It would be nice to do some traveling once Dio's been dealt with_. _Maybe I can take Della with me, got to Italy like she's always wanted._ Although, admittedly, he wanted to do that once he settled down in Japan after a while. _Better to not bring that up with Anne just yet._

"Let's just get going, _Monsieur_ Joestar," said Jean Pierre as he hoisted up his luggage over his shoulder. "There's a hotel room with my name on it." And with the moment now behind them, they finally made their way to the hotel.

~+JO*JO+~

It didn't take them long to reach the appropriately named Shangri La, nor did it take long to speak with the concierge. According to her, the impending holiday season has left them pretty booked.

"We still have rooms available," she reassured. "However, they won't be next to each other. Would that be an inconvenience?"

"A minor one, bu it's not as if we have a choice," said Joseph as he signed his name. "We can make do with it. Now, let's see… For our room arrangements… I think Avdol and I can share a room. Two beds, if you please."

" _Joutarou and I can take a room together as well_ ," spoke up Noriaki. " _We are students, after all._ " Joutarou did not object.

"Can we have a room together," asked Della, motioning to her friend. "Single bed?" Joaquín couldn't help but smile. He certainly enjoyed sharing a bed with Della. And it wasn't just because he had a better night's sleep with her around, but because he had someone to sleep with. It brought him a different comfort that had nothing to do with not having any nightmares.

That left Jean Pierre and Anne, and the little girl made it perfectly clear she did not want to share a room with him. She might be a little girl, but she was still a lady. Luckily, the hotel could accommodate separate rooms for them. The Frenchman couldn't be happier. With the rooms all paid for and their names signed, they each took their keys and began making their way towards the stairs leading to the next floor. It wasn't until they were up the first flight that Joaquín noticed his grandfather giving him a funny look.

"What's up, _Abuelito_ ," he asked.

"Oh, it's nothing important," said Joseph wistfully. "I just can't help but notice how close you two are. How long have you been friends again?"

"About a month, I believe," said Joaquín. "Though, it almost feels like we've always been friends."

Joseph scratched his beard in thought. "A month... Yes, that would be a good enough amount of time..."

"Enough time for what?"

"Oh, nothing." he could tell he was smiling slyly behind his beard.

"No, tell me!" But he already knew what he was getting at. He thought that Joaquín and Della may already be boyfriend and girlfriend. They absolutely weren't, but he felt as if he had a point. The two were closer than normal friends ought to be, sleeping comfortably in the same bed and sharing stories they haven't yet done so with the others. Plus, they both cared about each other so much that they would put themselves in harm's way just to save one another. They might as well be dating.

 _But she doesn't like me like that. Does she?_

He pushed this thought out of his head and said nothing else as the group headed off to their rooms. Joutarou and his group went onward to the 12th floor as Joaquín, Della and Jean Pierre looked for their floor. Upon arriving in their hall, the Frenchman bid the two a good day and entered his own room, leaving the two to enter the one at the end of the hallway. Theirs was rather comfortable with a cushy bed, a clean bathroom, and even a small refrigerator. They even had a beautiful, balcony view of the city.

"This is really nice," Della said as she set down her luggage knelt to check the fridge. "And the fridge is stocked for us. There's snacks, juice and… alcohol?"

"Do you drink," asked Joaquín as he sat down at the edge of the bed.

"I tried beer once. It's nasty. But there's no beer. It's all fancy stuff… Heineken, some wine, Schnapps-"

That made him perk up. "Schnapps! Oh, hell yeah! Get some glasses, we're having some!" His rather enthusiastic reaction made her smile. Della took a moment to set up the drinks, using some shot glasses she found in the cabinet. She then took a seat beside him and handed him his drink, which he raised. "I propose we make a toast. To friendship and to a fruitful adventure. May we succeed and kick Dio's ass back to hell."

"I can drink to that." And the two clinked their glasses before downing their shots. The alcohol burned on the way down, but it's sweet, peach flavor made up for its bitter burn. While Joaquín hadn't much of a reaction, Della was thrown into a coughing fit. She probably never had anything quite like it.

He patted her back and chuckled. "You okay," he spoke through his amusement.

Della slowly calmed down and spoke in a scratchy voice, "It burns… I wasn't expecting that…"

"Nobody expects it to burn the first time. I said the same thing to my dad when we went drinking for my birthday and he just laughed." And so did he, but it turned into a somber one as he stared at his glass. "You know, that was the day it happened"

"I remember," she said softly. "If I may ask… what really happened that day?"

While Joaquín never liked talking about such a sensitive topic, he felt comfortable enough to relay the story to Della. _She_ is _my best friend, after all_ , he admitted to himself. So, with another shot poured and another shot downed, he began to tell her his tale.

"Well, we decided to go to a bar to celebrate my 21st birthday. I had my first taste of alcohol there, and we were having such a good time, just me and him. A bit later, I decided to go use the bathroom, and when I came back, I saw everyone crowded around someone. When I went to look, I saw it was my dad, beaten up and dead."

"Oh my god," whispered Della. "You didn't even get to see it…"

"No. I didn't. My back was turned for one second and he had gotten into a fatal fight. According to everyone else, all he did was bump into the guy. It was one-sided. And when I got to my dad and just… held him… the man just _stood there_."

"He didn't run?"

"I guess he wanted to see me in anguish. I wouldn't know. But anyway, after a bit, he walked out and the police came several minutes after. Everyone gave them a witness report and a description of what he looked like. And the police held a two-month long investigation. They never found him. And I just gave up… I promised my father, on the day he was buried, not to let his death hold me back from living… But I also promised not to hold back should I ever meet that man again."

A silence followed his story, but it was quickly broken by Della pouring herself her second shot. She looked rather sad to know her friend had gone through such a traumatic experience. Anyone would feel that pity towards those who suffered. She drank again, this time only wincing from the burn before she spoke in that same whisper.

"My parents were brutally beaten up in front of me."

"What?" he asked, not expecting this at all."

"Yeah. When I was five. Back then, I was living in New Jersey. My mom and dad had allowed me to have my first sleepover with a boy my age. That one night, we heard our window break below. And we both went to my parent's room, where they told us to hide in the closet… Then… the thieves came in and…" She couldn't seem to continue, her eyes watering up from having to remember such a tragedy. Joaquín didn't let her, as he brought her into his arms to comfort her.

To talk about such a sensitive topic was very brave. And he was somewhat glad she had trusted him enough, the way he did with her, to relay her tale. But bravery could only go so far. Joaquín did not want to push her to explain further when she had just given away the ending before the story.

"I'm sorry, Della," he consoled as the hug ended. "Nobody should ever go through this. I should know. But you wanna know something?"

"What's that," asked Della as she wiped her tears.

"They're always with you. Even in death, our family isn't truly gone." And Della smiled, knowing he had a point. "Now come on. Let's have one more drink, okay?"

And as he reached for the bottle, Joaquín had looked up at the closet in the corner of the room and noticed something strange. It wasn't the fact that it was barely open, he knew about that when they walked in. But it was the fact that there was something inside. Something large and grey, barely illuminated by the light slipping inside. Whatever it was, he felt compelled to see it.

"Jojo?" Della looked confused as her friend stood up and approached the closet. She had done the same thing and stood behind him, no doubt curious as to what he saw. When he opened the closet door, they beheld a surfboard, grey and battered with numerous skulls decorating it. "Whoa… A surfboard… But who would leave one here? The staff? Maybe someone forgot it here?

"No, it can't be," Joaquín said slowly, looking at it closer. "This isn't exactly good weather for surfing. Plus, this isn't something you could easily forget. And even if it was, the staff would have taken it out when cleaning the rooms."

"So bizarre…" When Della placed her hand upon the board, a look of confusion washed over her. "Jojo, come feel this! I don't think it's a surfboard!" And when he felt it as well, he had to agree. Its material was not whatever surfboards were made of, but out of some cold, rough stone. It looked like a gravestone, which explains the skulls on it. And the more Joaquín looked at it, the more uncomfortable he felt. _This "surfboard"... feels like death..._

"Let's go report this to the staff," he said with a shiver as they took their hands off it. "It's starting creeping me out. I'm _not_ sleeping here until this thing's out. Wouldn't you agree, Della?"

But when he turned to his friend, he saw her frozen in place. Her widened, tear-filled eyes stared ahead in terror. His eyes followed to where she looked, and it was then that he noticed that half of the hotel room was gone. It was overtaken by a dark and dimly lit bedroom, the light filtering from the blinds onto an occupied bed. Two men in black stood atop a man and woman, beating them to death and spilling their blood on the sheets.

He knew who they were. They were Della's parents. This was the memory of that awful night.

Before he could say anything, an anguished cry from behind him caught his attention. Something in him froze up. _I know that cry_ , Joaquín thought, dread filling his heart. _I know what's behind me. I can't look. I don't want to see_ him _like that again._ But like his friend, he was compelled to turn around and behold his own painful memory.

The second half of the hotel room was replaced with a bar, its chairs strewn about and a crowd of people whispering amongst themselves. Through a gap, he could see a young man crying over the cold, dead body of another. Dark eyes were gazing emptily up at the ceiling, his short, spiky hair matted to his blood-streaked face. Oh yes. It was easy to recognize his father and the mourning figure of Joaquín Trejo.

His heart was in his throat. Everything from that day was playing out seamlessly before his very eyes. And it was vivid, from the scent of alcohol in the air right down to the temperature the bar was set at. _It's like I'm really here. But… is_ he _here too? The bastard that killed Dad?_ He had to find out, to see the man's face properly. Joaquín stepped forward and tried to move someone aside, only for his hand to phase through him as if one of them were a ghost. He didn't care, as long as he got to see.

Joaquín's twenty-one-year-old self and the lifeless body of Carlos Trejo came into view before him. The bartender was there as well, frozen behind his station and as fearful as everyone else. And then, there was the man, standing over the broken family and smiling. He was as he remembered him. A handsome youth, eyes hidden behind shades, a casual attire of denim jacket and jeans that complimented his looks. And then there was his black, wavy hair that made him look like a victorious bird of prey.

He wanted to punch him. He so wanted to punch off that smug face of his. _It's not gonna help_ , he thought ruefully. _He's not really here. None of this is really here. Its just an image, and something's making it. What though? A Stand? It has to be, there's no other explanation. There's gotta be one close by, as well as its user. Bigger question is, where? And how do I escape?_

Just as he was about to begin looking around for a means of escape, a nearby phone rang. There were a lot of things he remembered about this horrible day, but this wasn't one of them. He looked around and saw that the phone mounted to the wall behind the bar was the source of the noise. He moved passed his crying past, through the bar and tried to pick it up. It was solid, and before he could say hello, a seedy voice spoke out from the other end. "Time's up. Ready for another trip?"

"Wait, what do you mean by-!" But he couldn't get the rest of his message out, as he was pulled back behind the crowd in a blur of color and time. He felt pain in his heart and head, almost enough to make him wobble. Then, he heard the anguished cry of his past self again, the same one that drove him to turn and see this memory. Behind him, there was a grunt of pain, mixed with choked sobs. Della was still there, crying profusely and now on her knees. She was still frozen in place.

It was painfully (quite literally) clear what had happened. The memories had reset after... How long was it? Perhaps a minute? Two? And it hurt going back to the beginning. _God knows how long it'll continue before we end up dead... I gotta work fast and figure how to get out..._ He moved past the crowd again and behind the bar, just as the phone began to ring. He wasted no time in picking it up, and this time, he spoke first.

" _E'cúchame, tu hijo de puta_ , who are you? And where's your Stand?"

The voice on the other end laughed. "I'm surprised you didn't ask me how my Stand works."

"I already figured out the gist of it. We go through our memories and are hurt by them in a time loop. Now how do we get out?"

"Hm... You know, you're one of the few people I've seen with a fair amount of determination to escape and ignore the grief and pain your past is causing you. Everyone else I did it on, like your little girlfriend over there, just let it happened and cried their pretty eyes out to death. I like you, Trejo." He actually sounded impressed, but Joaquín had no time for that.

"Just tell me how to escape," barked Joaquín, fully aware that he wouldn't.

"Ah, see, I can't do that. That British guy Dio gave us a job, and we are seeing to it that we carry it out. A hefty price has been put on all your heads, and it'd be pretty shameful to go back to him without one of them."

 _We?_ A wave a dread washed over him. _How many of Dio's subordinates are in the hotel? Have the others bumped into any while we're being attacked by this one?_ "Who else is with you?"

"Oh, just a friend. He should be taking care of Polnareff as we speak. Anyway, since I like you, I'll give you some information. And maybe a little hint. My name's Haines. My Stand is called Graveyard. Think about it while you rot away, kid." The man named Haines laughed on the other end before letting out a rushed, "Two minutes," and hanging up. Joaquín put the phone back and wracked his brains for a second.

 _Okay, so_ G _raveyard is a Stand that takes the form of a very painful memory, which runs on a two-minute loop. At the end of each loop, its targets are rewound back to the beginning and are hurt. Probably from the grief and pain felt during the memory. That makes sense. But Haines said I had a strong will to escape. That's just what I'm gonna do. I'm not gonna let my past hold me back and bring me pain. I will escape my past!_

It was quite a poetic thought. But as he saw, there was no escape. They were both trapped between two separate walls: the bar and the dark home. Death stood between them, and death awaited them. It was as if they were in a coffin, unable to escape from the dirt trap they were buried in and forced to rot from the pain of it all. _Graveyard. Quite a fitting name_ , he bitterly thought, _That user might as well start making_ our _tombstones. Heh. I should probably think of an epitaph to put on-_

And then it clicked. _Tombstone..._ The first thing that came to mind wasn't what you'd find marking a grave. Rather, he thought of the accursed object they had touched, which he knew was the cause of their entrapment. _Call me crazy, but that damn surfboard has to be, without a doubt, the Stand! Haines' Stand! His Stand is in our memories!_

"Della," he cried out to his friend. She didn't look up from her spot, but he was certain she heard him. "The Stand is that surfboard we touched! We need to find it and-!" His sentence was cut off again, and it was back to square one. This time, he was actually brought to his knees. The pain felt like a knife in his chest now. He wouldn't have been surprised to find blood staining his shirt. But he couldn't let the pain hold him back. He knew what he had to do now: find Graveyard in his memory and destroy it.

Joaquín looked around every square inch of the memory. Under tables, inside the ghosts of the witnesses and even behind the bar. There wasn't a speck of grey stone anywhere. _Surely a giant carved rock wouldn't be_ that _easy to hide, would it? It would stick out like a sore thumb._ A minute had passed and there were still no results. At this point, Preciosa was summoned, who he allowed to run and punch through everything he could. His fists phased through everything. There was nothing hiding in anything.

Half a minute remained before a new loop began. Joaquín didn't know how many more they could handle before their hearts simply stopped. They were already on their third. He counted down the remaining seconds in his head, dreading the pain. Fifteen seconds. Now he was growing desperate. His Stand had moved on to punching through everyone in his vicinity, even the killer. Nothing. Then he moved onto his father, someone he did not want to end up punched, memory or not. It would have been an insult to do that.

"No," cried Joaquín, reaching out to stop his Stand. But it was too late. His fists phased through, and to his immense shock, there was a loud cracking noise. His father, dead as could be, slowly turned to stone and crumbled before his eyes. The memory faded away, allowing one half of the hotel room to return. _So that's where it was hiding._ And then he realized. _Gravestones are markers for the people buried beneath it. And our memories are about the dead. So that means Graveyard is hiding in our parents._

The second half of the room repeated before his eyes. He felt no pain, but Della sure did.

Her coughed-up blood was proof of it.

Something inside Joaquín's mind was panicking, but he tried not to let it overtake him. He needed to work fast. Both user and Stand entered the memory, but before he could punch the image of father and mother, he stopped. The voice of Haines filled the room without the need for a phone.

"It's not your memory, Joestar," he jeered. "You can't do jack! The only one who can free themselves from the pain Graveyard inflicts is the victim! And seeing that your little friend is not moving and you can't hurt Graveyard here, she's as good as dead! So say your last good-byes to little miss Brown!"

 _No_ , he thought defiantly. _I will find a way. There's_ always _a way!_

"Don't move, Adi. I got this."

It was a little boy's voice, the one Della had told him was invited to the sleepover. It was a reminder that there was another person who had witnessed this memory. Despite the desperation of their situation, he was curious as to see who it was. Moving toward the closet, where he knew the two children were hiding, he saw a teary, terrified eye peeking out from the door. Upon opening it, he beheld the little girl once named Adeline cowering in fear. Then his eyes rested upon the boy beside her.

His heart stopped.

He _knew_ him.

 _Put it away for now. Talk to Della about it afterwards._ Without hesitation, he sent Preciosa to punch the hapless victims of the attack, breaking apart the Stand hiding within them. After they crumbled apart, the memory of that awful night faded away to return them to their hotel room. Della was still on her knees, sobbing quietly beside him as she was freed from the Stand's influence.

As Joaquín was about to comfort his friend, a disgruntled growl emanated from beneath their bed. Crawling out was a thin man wearing all leather, his tan, exposed arms covered in tattoos of skulls and his seedy, gaunt face covered in greasy and matted black hair. It was Haines, and he did not look happy.

"You son of a bitch," he growled, shaking in anger. "How did you do it?! How were you able to free her?!"

"You made a fatal mistake in using your Stand on us," said Joaquín in a growl of his own. "Those memories were not meant to be dredged up. And yet you did it. You made us suffer."

"Don't duck my question, jackass! Answer me! How did you save her?!" But Joaquín did not answer, instead slowly approaching like an animal ready to pounce. He had just about enough of Haines. This man, this Stand user, subjected them and perhaps countless others to painful, psychological torture. And he probably enjoyed doing it, too. He needed to pay. "Why won't you say anything?! Answer me, damnit!" His face was slowly blanching from the silence, his body backing away from his former prey.

He knew what was coming.

The wheels in Haines' mind were so visible to him now. He knew that the only means of escape was through the sliding-glass door leading to the balcony. But he was one step ahead. Before the man even had a moment to turn, Preciosa shot out his hand and lifted him up by the neck of his vest. As the man struggled vainly to break the Stand's iron grip on him, Joaquín approached the man, fists clenched in anger

"People like you are nothing but scum," he growled more fiercely than before. "And you know what happens to scum? They get WIPED OUT!" Preciosa let go of him temporarily and began punching him with all his might, his usual cry of " _¡TOMATOMATOMA!_ " filled with the same rage Joaquín felt for the man who tormented them. With one last punch, the bleeding, crumpled Haines was sent flying and screaming through the window far off into the city.

It might have been his imagination, but he could have sworn he heard a second scream. But that didn't matter at all.

With Haines gone, Joaquín turned his attention to Della. He knelt before his best friend and opened up her hands that covered her face. He could see her green eyes now red and watery, tears flooding across her freckled cheeks. There was some blood on her chin from the attack. With his rage now replaced with care for his friend, Joaquín began wiping her face clean with his shirt. All the while, Della's eyes curiously darted all over his face. It was as if she was taking in every detail there was to his appearance.

Once the blood was off her, he rested his eyes on hers. They stopped. Then, Joaquín asked her, "What did he do afterwards? The boy who was there. What else did he do?"

Della gave him a confused look for a moment before realizing he was referring to the memory. "He… He stepped out of the closet. And he beat them up. Then he called the police… and he took me with his father so I could spend the night with them. After that… I was put in the foster system, right after I said good-bye to him."

"Do you remember his name?"

She thought for a second and said, "Lobo. Cause of his hair. And because-"

"Because he couldn't pronounce his name properly," finished Joaquín, unable to stop a smile from breaking out. _It's been too long since I've heard that name_.

"How do you know that," whispered Della, now even more confused than before. "Jojo, do… do you know him?"

"Yes. Yes I do. But not in the way you'd think." And so, Joaquín began his story.

"Sixteen years ago, my father went to New Jersey for three days. We were there to meet Yariel for a boxing event. One afternoon, he took me out to a playground, and I ended up meeting this girl there. She had freckles and curly hair. And we became fast friends that day, having fun, telling stories. She was really nice. I remember we both shared an ice cream that first day. We had such a good time that both our parents agreed to bring us back to meet again.

"This went on for three days. On the third day, we both asked our parents if we could have a sleepover. And they agreed. The girl and I went over to spend the night at her place. We had a good time and read some books, we ate a big dinner, and then we went to bed. A perfect ending to a perfect day." Joaquín let out a sad sigh, knowing what happened next. "Then, there was a break in. We ran to her parent's room, hid in their closet… and that was when two thieves began beating her parents to death.

Della's attentive silence broke, a quiet, "W-what," escaping her lips.

"And we both stood there, quiet and trying not to be seen. She was crying, and I was trying to comfort her. I was upset that this was happening, and that I couldn't save them no matter what I did. But I _had_ to do something. So I did. I stepped out of that closet and beat them into submission. Me, a six-year-old, beating up two murderers. It was a miracle, really. But it brought no comfort to any of us. I had only prevented mine and the girl's deaths, but not her parents.

"After that, I had called the police, and we spent the night with my father. Despite my protests, we couldn't take her with us. She had to be put into a foster home. And so, the next day, I had to say goodbye to her. And that was the last I've seen her… That was, until just last month, when I met her in an alley just after I had finished a fight. And I didn't realize that girl was the one from my childhood that I saved until just now."

Throughout his entire story, Della could only look at Joaquín with confusion. It was as if she had been hearing him incorrectly. But in his last sentences, her eyes widened. Everything was beginning to dawn on her. With timid trepidation of what he would say next, she said, "Jojo… You mean… Lobo… That was… you..? You were... Lobo?"

He nodded. "Yeah... That was… is… me. And I didn't realize that I once knew you, that you were once Adi, until I opened the closet in that memory and saw myself… I'm sorry I didn't recognize you after all this time. I had forgotten that day… It's been too long and…"

He trailed off when he noticed Della had closed her eyes and was leaning her face closer to his. Joaquín couldn't help but do the same. He knew what she was about to do, and it made his heart beat hard in his chest. Silently, their hands found each others' cheeks, and their lips gently locked together. There was a comforting silence in the air now. The last few minutes felt as if they didn't exist. For this one, tender moment, nothing else mattered. Not their journey, not the memories of death. Just them.

They broke apart after a minute, both their cheeks flushed as they looked back at one another. He could see the pain and sadness in her eyes replaced with a look he had seen before whenever they spent time together. In those moments, he couldn't exactly describe what he saw in those soft green orbs. But now, in the aftermath of the battle and the revelations what came to light, he finally understood. She had been looking at him with love the entire time.

 _She loves me_ , he thought. _And so do I._

No words were spoken as they kissed each other again. In the wake of another Stand attack, they once again found comfort in each others' company. Only this time, their bond strengthened beyond what it normally would. They had become more than just best friends, lifelong friends once separated and forgotten by tragedy. Joaquín couldn't feel any happier than at this moment.

In the several minutes they kissed, time seemed to have stopped. This moment was theirs and theirs alone.

~HAINES: RETIRED~

~DEVO THE CURSED (1959-1988): RIP~

* * *

STAND TIME

STAND USER: Haines (ヘインズ)

STAND NAME: Graveyard (墓地 (グレイブヤード))

POWER: D, SPEED: E, RANGE: E, DURABILITY: E, PRECISION: A, POTENTIAL: E

ABILITY: Graveyard requires touch in order for its ability to take effect. Once touched, it looks through its victims' minds for any memory involving death, be it repressed or forgotten entirely. It then replays the memory so vividly that the victim will feel as if they are there once again. If there are no memories, Graveyard will fabricate one real enough to make them think it actually happened. The memory plays in a two-minute loop, slowly stealing the life-force of its victims and eventually killing them due to the pain and grief. It can only be stopped by the victim (or whoever else shared the memory) finds a manifestation of Graveyard inside the visions of those who died.


	14. What Goes On

Ch. 14  
What Goes On

DECEMBER 3RD 1988  
16:11  
ROCHOR, SINGAPORE

Jean Pierre Polnareff was arrested.

The lead-up to this event was layered with humor. It all began when Joaquín was reminded by Della that they were not the only ones who were dealing with a Stand user. The two made a hasty dash to his room, which had been trashed in the aftermath of the attack. The bed had collapsed, there was blood mixed with alcohol and juice plashed among the carpet and mirror fragments. And sitting on the bed, kicking a torn up native American doll was a bleeding Jean Pierre.

He told them the story of how Devo the Curse had been waiting for him and used a doll to attack. Joaquín, who remembered the conversation he had about this man, found the irony downright hilarious. Jean Pierre most certainly didn't. When the laughter died down, they both shared their respective stories. Of course, they left out the fact that he and Della kissed. _That's a bit too private to share at the moment_ , thought Joaquín as they brought up how the two were once childhood friends.

Several minutes after shared their stories, they regrouped with the others, who Jean Pierre had called when Devo was attacking. Joseph, unaware of what transpired, suggested they plan their next move on the assassin. The Frenchman amusingly collapsed in exaggerated exhaustion. Then came the icing on the cake. Shortly after he got cleaned up explained everything, the hotel staff and policemen burst in and dragged him away. They had found a bellboy with his face cut off and Devo torn to bits in a bathroom stall.

"He really can't catch a break today, can he," said Noriaki as Joaquín was laughing at his humiliation.

Joseph sighed and began punching in numbers on the room's phone. "I better call the Speedwagon Foundation for this one," he said mirthlessly. "I doubt Polnareff can explain what happened without being labeled a psychopath."

Luckily, Jean Pierre seemed to have the same train of thought. As it turned out, he didn't say anything. He knew his right to remain silent and used it until a representative of the Speedwagon Foundation came to bail him out. They were all pretty thankful that the organization was indebted to the Joestar family, otherwise they would have lost a pretty valuable member of their team to the law. And there would have been nothing funny about _that_.

With the chaos of the day behind them, everyone returned to their rooms and relaxed. Well, everyone except Joaquín, whose mind was in a million places. The biggest, blaring thought in his head was Della. There was a mixed bag of emotions when it came to her now. He was happy that he reunited with his childhood friend and shared a meaningful kiss. He was upset that it happened after such a terribly emotional battle, and after such a short time (they knew each other for a month, at least).

And he felt afraid, more than anything, about what they did. They might as well have been in a relationship now. Sure, he couldn't be happier that their friendship evolved into something stronger, more meaningful, but it came with great risk. Dio had a connection with the Joestars through the body he so disgracefully stole. He could track every one of their moves, know exactly what they were doing. He would find out, one way or another, about Della, and use her to his advantage. Maybe even make her a primary target.

It made his hands shake so badly he needed to have Preciosa come out and hold them still for him. He didn't want Della to be in that vampire's crosshairs. If he wasn't Joaquín Trejo, he would be shipping her away from them, just like they were doing to Anne. But then, what kind of friend would that make him? _A caring one_ , he thought. _Though I would lose what trust she has in me. And the next argument we have would involve my nose and both our hearts broken. And none of us want that._

Neither did he want her to get hurt any more than she has. But, given all that had happened (and will continue to happen), that was not going to change. For all of them, really. Silently, he resigned to the fact that Della was going to continue traveling with them, and that he would have to continue doing what he was trying his best to do: protect her. After all, he did promise her (albeit non-verbally) that he wouldn't let her get hurt. Though it proved to be a pie-crust promise since one of Dio's men did succeed in hurting her earlier.

Speaking of Dio, Joaquín's mind was also on the issue of that man's foresight. _He's predicting our every move. There's no way these assassins would know where we are if Dio himself didn't know beforehand. But there's nothing we could do to stop or counteract it. It's not like we could just look into his pla-_

All of his thoughts ceased. It just occurred to him that they _can_ look into Dio's plans. After all, they _do_ have someone in their group that has some form of foresight. His grandfather and his Stand. _It was thanks to him that we were able to get a lead on Dio. So who's to say that we can't give that_ maldito vampiro _a taste of his own medicine? Put ourselves one step ahead of him?_ Getting a heads up on his plans was a crazy idea, but it was crazy enough that it just might work.

The excitement of coming up with such a thing made him unable to sit still. _I gotta find_ Abuelito _and make this a reality. Now!_ Joaquín got up and was about to run out when he heard the shower come to a stop. He just remembered that Della decided to take one when they had returned to their room. She needed to know about his plan before he spoke to his grandfather. It took a few minutes before she stepped out, mercifully covered in a towel and her dripping hair a wet sheet along her back.

"Wow," said Joaquín admiringly. "You look gorgeous. I think this is the first time I've seen you with your hair straight."

"Oh, shut up," she said with giggle, the compliment turning her cheeks red. "It gets better, trust me. So, you look rather excited about something. Is it me?"

"As much as I would like it to be, no," he said sincerely. "I came up with a plan. And it involves doing some spying on Dio. I'm going to _Abuelito's_ room to talk to him about it.

"You think it's gonna work?"

"Maybe." He then kissed her cheek and left the room. While he had confidence in his plan, he couldn't help but have his doubts. It might end up failing. It was a risky business to be spying on their sworn enemy. But if they didn't try, how would he know if they would succeed or not?

It didn't take long for him to reach his grandfather's room on the 12th floor, where he heard Mohamed conversing with Joseph. "I feel foolish for not anticipating a Stand attack so quickly," he said, his voice as calm as it always has been. "We have not even been here a full day and already both Polnareff and Joaquín have been attacked."

"The bond my family shares with Dio is a very mysterious one," Joseph spoke, sounding just as calm. "Even I can barely understand it. All I know is that as long as he has my grandfather's body, he can track mine and my grandsons' movements no matter where we are. He'll continue sending his lackeys after us without a moment's rest." Joaquín knocked on the door and came in, looking as serious as his grandfather and the fortune-teller. "Ah, Joaquín. I take it you overheard us."

"Yeah, I did," said Joaquín. "I've been thinking about that link as well for quite bit. And that had me thinking… maybe _we_ could get a look into Dio's next plan. I mean, he's not the only one who can see where his enemies are. Which is why I was gonna ask if you could use Hermit Purple to take another hotograph."

"Thoughtograph," corrected his grandfather, but he waved his hand dismissively. "There's no need. I have a much better idea. Watch."

Without another word, he approached the television in the room and held it with both hands. The other two men approached behind him and watched in awe as Hermit Purple dug its thorny vines into the television. It turned on without the need of pressing the power button. Fading into the screen was a scene from _The Godfather_ , where Vito Corleone and his family were gathered to take a picture during his daughter's wedding.

"Where's Michael," asked Vito as he turned to his son Sonny.

"Don't worry, it's early," he replied, not seeming to put off that his younger brother hadn't gathered to join them for the picture. And just as Vito had turned to his wife, the channel changed immediately to MTV, which had announced that this week's third place video having moved up five spots since last week. Then, it switched to a broadcast about the price of gold. Then, it switched to an airing of the _Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles_ , one of Joaquín's favorite cartoons.

The channels were now starting to change at a faster rate, the screen becoming a blur of colors and sound. "Why are the channels changing so quickly, Mr. Joestar," asked Mohamed. "What are you trying to find?"

"My Stand is taking certain words it finds and piecing together a sentence," explained Joseph. "Think of it as less of a spiritual picture and more of a spiritual message. Besides, the results will be less cryptic than a simple photograph.

The channels were now at such an impossible speed that nobody could keep up. Eventually, it paused on a news show, on which one of the anchors said, "There-," before flipping through several more channels. It paused on the ninja turtle Raphael saying, "-is a-," and channel changed once more. Joaquín heard it clearly. Hermit Purple was picking up words from different channels to form a sentence. It was beyond impressive.

His grandfather looked surprised, almost as if he wasn't expecting to get results this fast. "Did you hear that," he asked them. 'It said, 'There is a'..." The disjointed voices continued before anyone of them could speak.

"-trai-"

"-tor-"

"-among us."

All three men went pale. Joseph did not let go, and neither did his Stand. "W-What in the world..." He sounded dumbfounded, as did Mohamed when he spoke.

"Did it really say, 'There is a traitor among us.'?"

"It did", said Joaquín slowly. "But the question is... who?" As if to answer, the television continued to stop at certain intervals. The answer they received was one nobody was expecting.

"-ka-"

"-kyou-"

"-in."

"-beware!"

" He is-"

"- _dios_ _-"_

"-mi-"

"-nion-"

"KAKYOUIN," screamed his grandfather in shock. "WHAT?!"

"I-I-Impossible," sputtered Mohamed. "Kakyouin?! Still his minion?!" Joaquín was backing away from the flickering television. _There's no way. Noriaki? No. We saved him. Joutarou pulled out that flesh bud, we were all there to see it happen. That kid's indebted to us. So. why would he want to work for such a manipulative madman again after that? It makes no sense!_

As they tried to register what they had just heard, Joaquín saw something forming in the flickering of the TV screen. A tall shape, coming in clearly with each second. It looked like a muscular man, his body and face hidden in shadow. All he could make out was his wild blonde hair and one cold and glaring amber eye. He knew who it was... And in that instant, his blood boiled in fury.

"This is," whispered Mohamed with a tinge of fear in his voice.

"It's _him_ ," exclaimed Joseph in anger.

"DIO," Joaquín screamed as he tore his grandfather from the television, Hermit Purple still embedded inside, and held it in his hands. The box was slowly growing hot, and the screen was beginning to crack. But he didn't care. He was looking at the man who had cursed his mother.

"Joestar," Dio spoke in his cold voice, his composure even despite the hatred he spewed. The man covered his face with one hand and pointed at Joaquín with the other. " You lot... Once again, you have spied on me. Why must you indulge in such an unhealthy obsession? What could you possibly gain by peering into my life?

"DIO! YOU FUCKING VAMPIRE BASTARD! I'LL KILL YOU FOR WHAT YOU'VE DONE TO MY MOTHER! YOU HEAR ME?!"

He was seething. Joaquín had never been filled with such a murderous intent before. When his father died, he certainly wanted to kill his murderer, but never more than he wanted to do so to this maniac. He had caused his family, the Joestars, so much pain and misery. Not anymore. He was going to put an end to that. And he would do it with his own bare hands.

Dio silently watched on, his undead eye gleaming with curiosity. Then, he did something nobody was prepared for. Dio leaned forward, revealing to them every detail of his pale face. He looked exactly as he remembered in his dreams. Joaquín couldn't move away. He was frozen where he stood, watching the cracks grow deeper and a high pitch whine coming from the TV set grow louder in pitch.

The vampire then said, in a soft, venomous voice, "Joaquín Trejo... I will take my time killing you…"

"DIO!"

"Joaquín, MOVE," shouted his grandfather, as both he and Mohamed grabbed him and flung themselves away from the television, which finally exploded. Chunks of plastic and shards of glass flew across the room, though the three weren't hit by any of it. When they looked up from the floor, they saw smoke streaming from the hole on the screen. Joseph stood up and muttered, "He felt us trying to spy on him. That's why he showed his himself. Though I wasn't expecting the TV to explode."

Mohamed stood silent for a moment before he sputtered, "B-But what does this all mean?"

"It's as we just heard. Kakyouin is still working for Dio."

"I don't believe it," said Joaquín, his throat raw from his prior screaming. "We were all there when my brother pulled out that flesh bud off his head, remember? A kid like him, he wouldn't just go back to working with Dio. You know that. Plus, he saved our butts from that Stand user on the plane. You think he would have done that if he was a traitor? Because I certainly don't."

"I'm not saying I disagree," said his grandfather hastily. "I think Kakyouin's reliable. But... my Stand has never been wrong. And this is Dio we're speaking of. It wouldn't be below him to put a spy in our ranks to attack us unexpectedly.

"Maybe we're interpreting it wrong. Or maybe Dio's throwing us for a loop. Regardless, Noriaki is no Trojan horse." Joaquín stood up and wiped off some of the powdered glass that clung to his shirt before storming out. The idea, while successful, had very bitter results. He may have only known the boy for several days, but he knew Kakyouin Noriaki would never betray them. The boy was kind and mild-mannered, and aside from the one squashed on the plane, he would never hurt a fly.

And it wasn't as if he didn't have more than enough opportunities to kill the group. That Stand of his had several unspoken and unused powers at his disposal. The others didn't know, but he did. His brother left no detail out of their rather epic battle within his school's medical office. Speaking of Joutarou, Joaquín didn't know how he would even begin explaining the situation to him. Noriaki was the closest thing to a real friend he had after himself. He wouldn't want to hear it.

 _But he's got to. Eventually, I have to cross that bridge._

Dinner came later that evening, and things seemed to calm down. There were no suspicious glares, mentions of treachery, or an air of unease. Everything felt calm and joyful. There were laughs, scattered conversations, and everyone was able to appreciate their food. Even Anne, who had been feeling down earlier that day, joined in on the easygoing mood. It was as if the events of today had never happened. And that was something Joaquín was thankful for.

In the midst of their conversations, they took the time to discuss their next course of action. They would need to get to India, but in order to do so, they needed to take a train there, along with several boat trips through Burma. They needed to take borders into consideration. "Polnareff, I have already ordered a ticket for Anne's plane tomorrow," said Joseph to Jean Pierre. "I want you to take her via taxi to the airport. We have to be up bright and early for this."

" _Oui_ ," said the begrudging Frenchman. Anne looked up from her plate and nodded, knowing there would be no arguments about it.

"Now, we have to order the train tickets at the station. However, it's on the other side of the city. The trip will be easier if we go on cable cars."

"We can go," Joaquín said, motioning to Della beside him. He then asked hopefully on his other side, "And while we're at it, maybe Joutarou and Noriaki would like to come along?"

The two students, who were in an in-depth discussion about sumo, looked up and only barely registered what he said. They nodded, agreeing to tag along. Joaquín would not have minded them staying, but because of Hermit Purple's message, he felt it safer for both of them to join so as to keep an eye on him. He trusted the boy, but he would rather play things safe.

His grandfather seemed to think the same thing, for he gave a knowing nod to his eldest grandson. "Then it's settled. Avdol and I will stay here. We'll have to order an extra night for all of us tomorrow. I hope nobody minds that."

"Not at all," they all said. When their hearty dinner came to an end, the group dispersed once more to their respective rooms. Back in his, Joaquín wasted no time in telling Della everything that happened. He left nothing out, not even the shocking appearance of Dio. After he finished, Della spoke slowly, as if everything was taking its time to be comprehended.

"But… There's no way he's a traitor. He would have killed all of us already."

"Exactly," Joaquín almost shouted. "I'm glad you see it my way! He's almost harmless! He would never do something like that!"

"Are you gonna tell Joutarou?"

"I'm gonna have to. I mean, we're all gonna be alone tomorrow. He'll want to know before we get into a cable car.

"Good. Because we _all_ need to be on our guard, just in case things go south."

Joaquín smiled and said, "There'll nothing to worry about. Preciosa and Star Platinum are more than enough to handle whatever comes at us. Especially a Stand that's already lost to one of us."

"I know." Della's expression, her entire demeanor changed from seriousness to something akin to shyness. Her cheeks were glowing red, and her soft hands found his.

 _She wants to talk about_ that _,_ thought Joaquín with a smile. _Odd time to do so, but… No. It's not an odd time. We needed to talk about this at some point today._

With their hands squeezing gently, they kept their eyes upon one another as Della spoke in a whisper. "So, about earlier. What does it mean for us? I mean… What does that make us now? Friends? A couple?"

"Whatever you want us to be," Joaquín whispered back. "I'm happy no matter what we become."

"A couple then? If… Is it okay?

"Absolutely. You're my best friend, Della. But as of late, it's always felt like we were more than that. So why not?"

Della smiled wider than he had ever seen, immediately becoming giggly. It was a cute sight that made his heart swell. She didn't continue until she stopped giggling. "You know, ever since we met, I felt this weird connection with you. It's something I never felt around family or friends. Like, this sense of... importance. I never felt important, not even to my foster family. Not that they didn't love me, mind you.

"But... when we first met, and when you invited me over to your home, things changed. You took an interest in me, showed me kindness I've never seen in other people. And I... took an interest in you. You're a sweet and passionate individual. You're not afraid to put your life down for others or to be who you are. I noticed that when you fought that guy in the restaurant in New York. I noticed it every day since. And since that moment, I began to like you."

"That long," Joaquín couldn't help but ask. And it was now that her rather bizarre look that day of half admiration and trepidation made sense.

"Yes. And there have been so many opportunities I wanted to tell you, 'Jojo, I wanna date you', but I was afraid of what you would say. I honestly never thought you'd feel the same."

"Why wouldn't I? You're as just an amazing person as I am. I mean, I'm not good with stuff like this, but... I like you for the same reasons. Nobody's ever liked me the way you do."

"Thank you, Jojo." And for another moment, they shared a passionate kiss. When they broke apart, she asked, without so much as a hint of worry, "This _is_ okay, right? I mean, you said earlier that Dio knows almost all our moves. Wouldn't he find out about us?"

"I thought about that. I'm pretty sure he'll find out one way or another. But I'm prepared for that. I'm prepared to put my life on the line for you. I won't let them hurt you."

"If you've ever watched _Mary Poppins_ , you'd know that's a pie crust promise. Easily made, easily broken. Now, let's get some sleep. We got a busy day tomorrow." And with that, they got under the covers of their bed and went to sleep in each others' arms. Joaquín felt more comfortable holding his friend, now girlfriend, in his arms now than he did before.

~+JO*JO+~

Everybody said their good-byes to Anne that morning. She gave a hug to each one of them, saying how much she would miss them all. When she hugged Joaquín, she whispered in his ear, "You better keep your promise. Or you and my knife will have a little talk."

"Don't worry," said Joaquín, chuckling at the joking threat. "We'll be back to take you on that trip." He ruffled her hair before she left with Jean Pierre in a taxi to the airport. As he waved to her, he heard Joutarou scoff beside him. His younger brother was giving him a curious look, coupled with a smirk. " _What's up, bro?_ "

" _Nothing_ _,_ " he said. " _You've really got that heart of yours stitched to your sleeve._ "

" _That's just who I am. You can thank my grandmother for that. You would have loved meeting her. She was a real fireball._ "

"Joaquín," said Mohamed, handing him a folded-up map "This will help you should you get lost. Mr. Joestar and I shall be waiting at the hotel." He then lowered his voice and whispered, "Please mind Kakyouin. I do not think he is a traitor, but when it concerns Dio, we have every reason to be on guard."

He nodded silently, a bit appreciative that there was one more person who believed in Noriaki's innocence. As he and his grandfather walked back into the hotel, Joaquín and the others began making their way through the city. He took a moment to look at his map, and it turned out his grandfather was right about that train station. It would probably be about a half-hour trip from the hotel to there. Joaquín was used to long walks back in Queens.

After a few minutes, he turned to his brother and asked, " _Hey, bro. What's your dad like?_ " He only knew that his stepfather was a popular and successful jazz musician and was currently on tour. The few pictures she saw of him back in Japan showed that he resembled Joutarou, but with dark eyes and cleaner hair.

" _He's a really quiet man_ ," said Joutarou stoically. " _Even when he's home, which, due to his career, is rare. Dad never shows his emotions. Sometimes it's hard to tell whether he cares about us or not._ "

" _Does he?_ "

" _Somehow, yes. But he's constantly on tour. We never see him as much as we'd like to. But that's Mom's fault. She never wants to go on tour. She's actually comfortable staying at home. I could never understand her._ "

" _When we're done, let's all join him. I mean, wouldn't it be cool to travel and watch his concerts?_ "

Joutarou turned to him, a smirk on his face. " _Talented as he is, can you believe that I don't like his songs? Mom does, but that's because she's Mom. There's nothing and nobody she dislikes._ "

" _I noticed that. I think if she ever met Dio, she'd wanna invite him to some tea and make him her friend._ " Joaquín almost expected his younger brother to halt in his tracks, glare and threaten him for making a joke about that bastard. Instead of that, Joutarou let out a chuckle, shaking his head as he pulled his cap down in an attempt to hide his reddening face. He was honestly amused. " _Sorry_ ," he muttered. " _It wasn't even meant to be funny._ "

" _It's okay_ ," he said, still smirking. " _Because I honestly thought the same thing once before._ "

 _Strange minds do think alike_ , thought a bewildered Joaquín. _And nobody's as stranger than yours, bro._

"Hey guys," piped up Della, who had stood a few steps behind so as to allow the men to talk. "It's gonna be a long walk. Anyone up for some ice cream?" She pointed to a vendor a few feet away. Now that she mentioned it, they really could use something cool to munch on. They all agreed and went to the vendor, which not only sold ice cream but coconuts as well. Della went to the spiky-haired man behind the counter and asked, "Excuse me. I'd like to buy some ice cream for me and my friends."

"Welcome, little lady," he said with a smile. "Look, ice cream's good, but I have something _way_ better." He picked up a white, slightly hairy coconut from an organized pile on the counter. "Fresh, chilled coconut juice. Straight from the palm and shell."

Della looked at the price. It was 4 Singapore dollars. "Is this the price for tourists or for everyone? Cause these look like they'd be $2"

"Hmph. Well, I'll have you know that these have a one hundred percent natural and pure taste to them." He took one and swiftly chopped the top of it off, without so much as spilling any of its contents out. "When I say off the palm, I mean it. I got these half an hour ago, chilled them, and have them ready to sell." He presented her the coconut with two straws and a spoon. "So how about it?"

"That sounds good," said Joutarou. "We'll take four."

"Coming right up!" The vendor prepared three more and handed them over for $16. Della still thought they ought to pay half for them but nobody else minded. Especially Joaquín, who enjoyed coconuts above all other fruits and nuts (even though it's neither). It was the only flavor _limber_ (the Puerto Rican equivalent of Italian ice) he liked getting back in New York. Joutarou agreed to pay for them, as did Noriaki, who silently took his wallet out as well.

Then, out the corner of his eye, Joaquín saw someone snatch Noriaki's wallet and run off, laughing at his own luck. The youth stood stock still, an uncharacteristically dark look in his eyes. Noriaki silently turned and walked towards him, Hierophant Green slithering from under him quicker than it normally would. The Stand caught up to the thief and grabbed his leg, tripping him up and relinquishing his hold of the wallet. The youth caught up to the befuddled thief.

And then things took a bizarre turn.

Joaquín couldn't see his face anymore, but he could hear how different he sounded. " _You bastard_ ," he growled, speaking in a venomous voice that was not his own. " _You thought you could actually steal my wallet, you little bitch?_ " He had never heard the boy speak so vulgarly before. The others turned to the sudden cursing, and they became witness to Noriaki grabbing the thief by the hair and slamming his knee into his face. " _Cough it up, punk!_ "

" _Kakyouin_ ," exclaimed Joutarou. Everyone was in shock as they watched their friend take out his unnatural aggression on the man. _Just what had happened? Noriaki was never like this._

" _You were born as worthless as a cockroach's dick_ _,_ " he insulted. As if his language wasn't enough, he lifted the man over his shoulders and began to bend him by his back. " _I'd never forgive you for touching my wallet with your shit-covered fingers, you pilfering fuck!_ "

" _Noriaki, that's enough_ ," shouted Joaquín, unable to watch his brutal behavior anymore. " _You're gonna kill him!_ " But his words fell on deaf ears. Noriaki continued his brutal back-breaker, admonishing the pitiful man and making him bleed. Badly. That was when both he and Joutarou had to intervene, the former pulling the victim off his back and the latter pushing away Noriaki. The boy stood with his hands in his pockets, his cold eyes staring unblinkingly at the brothers.

" _What the fuck was that about, Kakyouin_ ," growled Joutarou. " _Have you gone crazy or something?!_ "

The youth stood silent and approached the counter of the ice cream vendor. " _That hurt_ ," said Noriaki in a composed, silky voice. " _Why did you push me away like that? He was a bad person. He stole my wallet. I punished him. I had to act accordingly. You would have done the same if you were me_ _._ " Noriaki took his coconut and took a sip from his straws, his flat eyes still staring at them. " _Don't you agree? Joaquín-kun? Joutarou-kun?_ "

The brothers shared a silent glance, And Joaquín was sure that they thought the same thing.

 _That's not Kakyouin Noriaki._


	15. Run For Your Life

Ch. 15  
Run For Your Life

DECEMBER 4TH, 1988  
08:00  
ROCHOR, SINGAPORE

From the moment they had met, Noriaki had left nothing but a great impression on him. He was not a vulgar, violent, hot-blooded youth. If anything, he was more of the quiet type, and he showed no cruelness. Not even against Tower of Grey. But now, they had just witnessed him almost break a man in two while swearing worse than a sailor. Did he really have some vendetta against thieves? This wasn't like him at all. It was as if a mask had dissolved to reveal something hideously unnatural beneath.

" _Why're you two glaring at me like that_ ," he asked, still talking in his silky voice and staring with dead eyes. Both were unnatural as well, not to mention how... fluid... he looked. Even when he cocked his head to the side, it just looked wrong. " _Joutarou-kun, are you really mad because I beat up some petty thief?_ " And there was another thing. He never used the honorific _kun_ after their names. Hearing it now felt so wrong.

" _We're pissed because it took both me and Joutarou to stop you_ ," exclaimed Joauqín, eyes flaring dangerously. " _You could have killed him!_ " To make his point clear, he motioned towards the twitching and bleeding thief beside them. Sure, Joaquín and Joutarou were guilty of putting punks in the hospital, but they would _never_ attempt to kill them the way he tried to.

Noriaki didn't even look at the near-broken man as he steadily said, " _I punished him accordingly. Nothing you both wouldn't have done._ "

Joaquín growled and approached the youth, ready to swing. Joutarou gave him an aside glance, which he managed to catch. He didn't need a shake of his brother's head to know that now wasn't the time to fight. As much as he wanted to break his wide mouth for making that remark, Joaquín had to agree with his brother. _Save the punching for later_ , he thought begrudgingly. _What matters now is getting to the cable car station. We can interrogate him there._

The stagnant air that had hung from when the attack stopped dissipated when several young children came running. They were all pointing to a nearby tree, where four brown, fat rhinoceros beetles gathered to drink some pooling sap. Noriaki turned to see them, then back at the others, chuckling. He almost looked natural again. Almost.

" _Jojo_ ," he said, his voice now sounding calmer than before, _"_ _it's not a big deal, really. I'm just a bit high strung today, that's all. It's this whole trip. It's got me exhausted. You're both right. Maybe I did overdo it a bit._ "

Joutarou looked as if he could smell the bullshit in his excuse. " _High strung? Last I checked, you were fine back at the hotel._ " Noriaki's smile faded, but he said nothing else. And neither did Joutarou, who continued on towards their destination. Joaquín silently sipped from his own coconut and went to catch up with him. Joutarou had his suspicions, but he didn't know about yesterday's events. When he caught up with him, he turned and said, " _That's not Kakyouin._ "

" _Obviously_ ," said Joaquín in a hushed voice. " _Listen, do you speak Spanish? Has Mom taught you?_ "

" _No. Her Spanish is horrible._ " _At least he's honest_ , but Joaquín wished they could hold this conversation in a language Noriaki wouldn't understand. " _What do you need to tell me?_ "

" _Yesterday,_ Abuelito _used Hermit Purple on his TV and came up with a psychic message. It said that Noriaki was a traitor in our group. That he was still working for Dio._ "

" _And do you believe it?_ "

" _Yes, but not in the way it sounds. I don't think he's Noriaki. He has to be someone else, like that captain I fought. Someone probably did something to him and took his place._ "

" _Don't say that, please_ _._ " Joutarou almost sounded upset. Maybe he was right in thinking that Noriaki was one of his only friends. They were both students of the same age with powers nobody else understood. Every time he saw them together, they held engaging conversations that only friends could have. His feelings right now were quite understandable. " _We would have felt it if he were gone. Look, let's just get to the cable cars. We can deal with the situation there._ "

Joaquín nodded, and before he could mention keeping their guards up, he felt a pair of thin arms wrap around him and a sudden push forward. It was Della who practically tackled him with a hug. But something was wrong. She was shaking.

"D-Della," exclaimed Joaquín, turning around to face her. Looking into her eyes, he noticed the absolute fear they held. "What happened? Are you okay?" Then a horrid thought crossed his mind. "Did he touch you?"

"N-N-No… Noriaki just ate them," Della stammered quietly, trying to look only at her boyfriend. "He ate those beetles! Those kids left and... and I noticed the l-legs in his mouth! He ate them!"

"It's okay. We're gonna handle it." He gave a backwards glance at the "student", who smiled eerily back at him. _I was right_ , he thought with disgust. _This guy is a complete impostor. We have to deal with him. And soon._ Joaquín turned away from him and wrapped a comforting arm around Della, who clung to him like a frightened dog. Her shaking soon stopped and her nerves were calmed. He made sure she felt safe, even in the midst of having an impostor among them.

The cable car station did not take long too long to reach. When they arrived, Joaquín paid for their tickets for one car while Della treated everyone, including their fake friend, to ice cream. They had long since finished off their coconuts, and she felt that they ought to have something colder.

" _Thank you, Della-chan_ ," said Noriaki, his tone still sending chills throughout everyone. The scared woman kept close to her boyfriend as they climbed up to where they would leave. They would have to wait for their appropriate car. In the meantime, they all went to the railing overlooking the mass of green foliage around the cities of Singapore and enjoyed their ice cream. It was a sight any New Yorker would give anything to see, a pure jungle not entirely made out of concrete.

Joaquín leaned against the rails, turning to his brother and saying, " _Say Joutarou. You ever wanna visit New York?_ "

" _I've been there as a little kid_ ," he said. " _I never liked it. It felt too... crowded. It feels the same in Tokyo_ _._ "

" _But not where you live, though_ _,"_ added Della, who looked calmer around the brothers.

" _No. It's just the city that I can't stand. Very noisy, very big. Too many people and cars all around. I'd rather be in a suburban area where I know where I am and where everything is. I figured a good place like that would be Florida._ "

" _Florida_ ," said Joaquín incredulously, " _All the way down there? But it's so hot all the time! You'll burn up before you have time to take off your hat! Plus there are alligators there!_ "

" _They live in your sewers too._ "

" _That's a myth. Parents tell that all the time to their kids so they don't mess around near any open manholes. Hell, my own_ abuelita _told me how_ el cuco _lives down there, and I believed her for quite some time._ " He looked back out to the wilderness beyond the station, watching the cable cars travel lazily in the air. " _You said you went to N_ _ew York. Was it to see_ Abuelito _?_ "

Joutarou nodded. " _I think I was four. I went to visit_ jijii _and grandma Suzy, who were still living there. I can't exactly remember how the trip went. Probably pretty good, but I was really young. The two things that stood out were when he tried scaring me with his prosthetic hand. He told me he lost it in a car accident with his mom, and some Nazi officer helped make the hand for him._ "

" _That sounds like Stroheim._ " He recalled the story of the loud Nazi who had turned half cyborg after an encounter with a Pillar Man. The supposed car accident sounded like a run in with the so-called Kahz that was somewhere floating out in space. " _And the second?_ _"_

" _My… well, our…_ _great grandmother Elizabeth was there. She was in her 90s and didn't look a day over 55. I think it might have had something to do with that_ hamon _you have. Anyway, she passed away when I was seven. That time I met her, she secretly taught me how to hold five cigarettes in my mouth._ " Joaquín gave him a scandalized look, to which Joutarou reassuringly added, " _No, I didn't start smoking at four. I started two years ago._ "

" _Well, you still ought to stop. It's an awful- Can I help you?_ " Noriaki had tapped Joaquín's shoulder, and his mood changed completely. There was nothing he wanted to say to this impostor. All he wanted to do was beat him up, but he couldn't do that in a public setting like this. He needed to wait.

" _Sorry to bug you_ ," said Noriaki, pointing to his ice cream cone. " _But are you going to have your cherry? I'm still hungry._ "

He looked at the untouched fruit on his cone and then back at him. " _Fine, s_ _ure, whatever._ " He turned back to his brother and continued talking as his cherry was plucked away. " _Anyway, what part of New York did you go-_ "

" _Watch out, Joaquín-kun_ _,_ " Noriaki playfully said as he shoved him over the railing. He heard Della shriek in panic. They were several stories over the parking lot below. He would be painting the pavement within seconds. But luckily, he summoned Preciosa to cling his hand to the wall of the building. Joaquín was very thankful for his ability to cling to surfaces like a real frog. Both Della and Joutarou helped him back up as Noriaki laughed at his misfortune.

" _Maldita sea madre_ ," cursed Joaquín loudly. "You could have killed me! Have you lost your fucking mind?!"

" _Relax, Joaquín-kun, I was only playing! I'd never kill one of my friends!_ " Noriaki didn't immediately eat the cherry he nicked. Instead, he rolled and licked all over it on his tongue. It would have been funny, and Joaquín would have made a dirty joke, had the whole scene not been disturbing. What made it worse was the noise he was making. A sickeningly seductive " _Rerorerorero_ " vocalized by his tongue that grew faster and more frantic as he mercilessly abused the cherry.

He only stopped when the cherry slipped onto the ground. Noriaki picked it up and looked back at them with a disturbing smile. " _You're glaring again! I told you, it was just a joke! Geez, you guys are acting more serious than you normally do! Can't you take a joke, Joaquín-kun? Joutarou-kun?_ " And the youth picked up the contaminated cherry and popped it into his mouth to eat. _Absolutely disgusting._ Joaquín's hands were twitching. _That cable car better get here soon._

And it did. Within a minute, their cable car arrived at the station. Joaquín turned to the cherry-licking youth and said, " _Get in, Noriaki._ " The boy just stood there, still looking at him with dead eyes. With a growl escaping his throat, he had had enough. " _I said get the fuck in. I have your ticket. So take it and get lost, you fake bastard!_ " And before his brother could stop him, he socked him straight across the jaw, sending him flying into the car. But as he did this, he saw something disturbing happen to him.

His jaw ripped itself off from the impact.

" _W-What the-_ " said Joutarou in surprise. Della gasped at the horrid sight.

"Aw man," Noriaki was somehow still able to speak, albeit poorly and in English. He turned to them and revealed his bleeding jaw, hanging by some rather stretchy strips of skin. It had formed into a horrific, Glasgow grin as he licked at a piece of regurgitated cherry "And here I had hoped you thought your friend had cracked. _Rerorerorero!_ "

"I knew it," yelled Joaquín as "Noriaki" rose to his feet. "You _are_ an impostor!"

"You're pretty clever to have caught onto that. But did you catch on to the fact that I've grown?" He tapped the top of the box's ceiling effortlessly, and it was then that he noticed how right he was. He was much taller now. "You're what, six feet tall? I've surpassed your height. And all I had to do was eat. The more I eat, the more I grow."

 _That explains the beetles. But that type of growth is inhuman. It's gotta be a Stand doing that._ Which brought up an interesting question. _Did I hit a Stand? With just my bare hands? They can only be hurt by another, not the user themselves. Unless his is a bit more unique than others…_

"Just who are you," said Joutarou calmly. "And what have you done to Kakyouin?"

"Unfortunately, Kakyoin is still alive. The idiot decided it would be a good idea to sunbathe before you all left. I took my chance and simply blended in seamlessly. Well, almost. See, my Stand is unique in that I can take the shape of anyone I want to. It absorbs all matter, which lets it grow in size. Normal people could see it just fine. It's called Yellow Temperance, after the "Temperance' card. And I...," Noriaki's face melted before their eyes, splitting apart into a gelatinous, yellow goop.

"...am Rubber Soul!" The head that rested in its place was handsome, with beautiful blue eyes, vicious arching eyebrows, and sleek black hair that rested upon his neck in curls. "Feast your eyes on my beauty as my Stand feasts on your hand!"

"My hand," repeated Joaquín slowly, looking down at the hand he used to punch Rubber Soul. There was a patch of the yellow ooze on his pinkie, and it felt as if it were taking bites out of him. "S-Shit! You're actually-"

"Since you touched my Stand, it left a part of itself on you. It'll feast on your pinkie and make its way to your hand and then the rest of your body. Try picking your nose with it! I've never seen anyone get eaten from the inside out." The doors behind him closed and the car began to move, leaving Joutarou and Della behind. Now he was in trouble, and unless he defeated him quickly, he _will_ get eaten alive. He summoned his Stand once again and prepared to punch him with a determined cry.

" _¡TOMA_ _!_ "

"What do you mean by ' _toma_ '", shouted Rubber Soul excitedly, as his ooze spread and prepared to engulf him. "I'll just eat you right down to your shit!" Preciosa's arm was engulfed in the blob, and Joaquín could feel a powerful burning sensation. He yanked his arm out, only to smash into one of the windows. Rubber Soul laughed and approached him, ready to take more of him. As much as he hated to admit it, he needed to escape him and strategize. He wasn't going to win this with punches alone.

They were passing one of the towers that helped support this mode of transportation. Seeing an opportunity to flee, Joaquín tore himself through the window and jumped towards it. Preciosa grabbed ahold of its ledge and helped them both up. There was enough footing for him not to worry about falling. Looking out at the suspended car where he escaped, he saw Rubber Soul laughing, the ooze on his body jiggling with a life of its own.

"What's so funny," he yelled out at him.

"Escaping from me is useless, Joaquín," he called back, looking comfortable in his seat as he looked back at him. "Pay attention, because I'm only gonna say this once! My Stand, Yellow Temperance, has no weakness! I don't even need to be near you for it to eat you alive! You're already dead, shit-head! I've won!" And he laughed maniacally into the distance, leaving Joaquín with his thoughts.

Puñeta. _How am I gonna get this off? I can try to cut it off, but what's to say it won't spread to whatever's cutting and then to my other arm. The last thing I want is for it to spread quicker._ At this time, it was still on his pinkie, which was intact but stinging something awful. _Reminds me of Juanito's Stand. But this isn't an insane itch, nor is it a cloud of mites. It's not like I can burn it off with_ hamon _and call it a day._

 _Can I?_

"It's worth a shot." Joaquín closed his eyes and centered himself. He steadied his breathing and focused his _hamon_ energy on one point: his pinkie. He had hoped that the slime eating away at it would burn off from the heat, but all it did was spread up to his fourth finger. "Shit," he muttered. "Heat's definitely out of the question. I gotta regroup with the others. By now they would have called _A_ _buelito_. Maybe they found the real Noriaki."

He waited a few seconds before the next cable car came in his direction towards the station. Inside was a little boy, curiously looking at him as he ate a popsicle. He motioned him to step aside before taking a running start, jumping and clinging on to the yellow box. It swung slightly from the impact, but it didn't deter him. Joaquín opened the window and crawled through.

"Excuse me," he said politely to everyone inside: the boy, his sleeping father, their schnauzer, and a fat lady who was beautiful in her own right.

"How'd you get on here," asked the lady, her plump legs crossed and not at all looking disturbed that he broke into their car. "Are you a stuntman?"

"No, I'm a tourist." He then looked at the boy, who kept licking his fat popsicle, and was given another idea. _If heat doesn't work, what about cold?_ He then knelt before him and spoke in a friendly manner. "Hey, buddy. Listen, I need to break off a bit of your popsicle. I need it to save my hand. I know it's hard to understand, but it's an emergency." If Joutarou were here, he would have taken the poor kid's entire treat. He complied and broke off a decent-sized piece of the cold bar for him to take.

"Thanks kid," said Joaquín, pressing it against the yellow goop. It reacted immediately by consuming it, growing and hardening into spikes on his hand. "Well, that didn't work either. Now what am I supposed to do?"

"Hey, buddy," said the fat lady as she took out a handkerchief. "You can't get rid of it with heat or cold."

She blew her nose as Joaquín asked her, "How would you know about that unless..." _There's no way… This quickly?!_

"I told you, no weaknesses." It was Rubber Soul. He had taken the guise of the lady, whose plump breasts he took a moment to knead in his hands. He laughed as his leg melted and shot out at the dog. It yelped and tried to desperately break free from the laughing madman who was eating him. The boy watched on in horror and ran to his father.

"Papa, wake up," he shouted while he shook him awake. "There's a bad lady in here! Pocky's in her leg!"

This would have been odd to understand for someone who was just waking up. But when it became apparent that there were a strange man and a wicked lady swallowing up their dog with her slimy legs in their car, it became clear. Something terrible was happening, and he needed to do something. The father tried to pull his dog free by yanking his collar, but by this point, the dog only had his head free. Blood was forming his neck. "No, don't do that," shouted Joaquín.

But it was too late. The poor dog's head was torn off.

Yellow Temperance opened up to reveal its user smiling beneath. "You're all mine, Joaquín, _mi amigo_." His Spanish sounded grating to his ears. But before Preciosa could punch him, the car shook again. The two Stand users turned to the window and saw Joutarou climbing in through the window. "Joutarou- _kun_! Just in time!"

" _Joutarou_ ," exclaimed Joaquín, not at all expecting his brother. " _You need to leave! This guy's gonna eat us up!_ "

" _And miss out on kicking his ass_ ," asked Joutarou calmly. " _I don't think so._ " He climbed in as Star Platinum appeared and grabbed the railing above the window, ripping it off and swinging with the intent to knock Rubber Soul's head off. Yellow Temperance formed a shield around its user, trapping the bar. " _Well, that didn't work._ "

" _Joutarou,_ por dios _, don't touch it! It's a Stand that eats organic matter! Think of that movie_ The Blob _! This is exactly what it is!_ "

"Nice comparison," laughed Rubber Soul. "I gotta hand it to you, both your Stands are very fast! But speed or strength won't help you out. Yellow Temperance is both offensive and defensive. It can turn into a wall of armor that absorbs all impact and fights back. It's impossible to defeat my Stand! You can't even run away unless you cut off whatever's eating you! You're all dead!" The blob then shot out everywhere in the car, sticking to the walls and onto the two brothers. They were trapped.

"DO YOU UNDERSTANNND?!" Rubber Soul sounded like a greedy spider that caught two big fat flies in its web. "There's nothing you can do but submit to your fate. As my next big meal!"

The brothers looked all around them as their enemy laughed. His Stand was everywhere, mostly on them. It wasn't holding them down, but if they tried to escape, they'd only be hastening their demise. Staying still would only prolong it, and who knew how long their attacker was patient enough before he decided to kill them now. Yes, they were in quite a nasty bind. But despite their danger, Joaquín was still able to hatch a plan. He would have to resort to something his grandfather once suggested.

 _Boy, this is gonna be risky…_

In a show of false defeat, he calmly turned to his brother and said. " _Well, Joutarou_ _,_ _looks like we're fucked_ _._ "

" _I gotta agree_ ," Joutarou said, looking just as calm despite being trapped. " _This Stand's practically unbeatable. No weakness whatsoever. Good grief…_ "

" _Well, I guess we're forced to use our last resort_ _," he added hopefully_

" _Our last resort?_ "

" _Our last resort._ "

" _Are you sure it's_ _that_ _one? The Joestar family's secret technique_ jijii _taught us?_ "

" _Do we have a choice?_ "

" _I guess not._ "

"What the fuck are you two yabbering about," Rubber Soul asked crudely. "Secret technique? Last resort? You don't mean the _hamon_ , do you? Not so much of a secret, and it won't help you out at all!"

"Oh, don't get this confused, Rubber," Joaquín chided, smirking at him. "This is the Joestar's _ultimate_ secret technique. It's helped my grandfather against the likes of vampires and gods. I think it would work against a mortal like you."

"So confident." He sounded sarcastic, but somewhat interested in what they would do. "Entertain me, then. What exactly is your secret technique?"

Preciosa and Star Platinum phased into view The brothers glared at Rubber soul and spoke in unison."Our secret technique... is to run!" The two Stands punched a massive hole beneath them, allowing them to drop out of the cable car and into the water below. Yellow Temperance was still attached to them, dragging itself and its user greedily after. Joaquín figured in that instant that, while he was unbeatable, he was still human. _He can protect his entire body, but he still needs to breathe._

As soon as they plunged in, the two grabbed ahold of the armored Stand user, keeping a firm grip on him as he struggled. They wanted him to struggle, so that when he needed to take a breath, he would be left wide open. Once they felt him starting to get weaker in their grip, they let go of Rubber Soul and allowed him to surface. They followed and rose out of the water, right before their enemy did, no longer shielding himself. Preciosa held him from behind and dragged him to more shallow waters.

" _What do you know_ ," said Joaquín with surprise. "Abuelito _wasn't joking when he said this would work._ "

" _I agree_ ," said Joutarou, adjusting his hat as he followed. " _It gave us time for some quick thinking._ "

"Now, Rubber. All that talk about you being undefeatable sounds really silly when you come to realize you need to deactivate your Stand to breathe. A guy needs his air. No matter how strong your Stand is, you're only human. Do _you_ understand?" He chuckled after throwing his words back at him, right before elbowing him hard in the mouth and nose. Yellow Temperance let go of the brothers as Rubber Soul gingerly touched his broken and swelling face.

When he saw them wading towards him, he held his hands out to stop them. "W-Wait! Stop! I give, I give! I-I can't fight anymore! My nose is broken, and so is my jaw. I p-probably need to have it wired shut. Please, let me go to the hospital. I'll stay there for a f-few months and never bother you guys again. It's not worth it, not even for the money Dio gave me. Just let me go!"

"Hmm..." Joaquín rubbed his chin and considered whether he ought to let him go or not. There was no guarantee that he won't pester them again. He would just have to make sure his hospital stay is an extensive one. He kept his Stand behind their attacker so he wouldn't escape. Rubber Soul probably felt his presence, because he didn't back away. "Why don't you tell us about the other Stand users sent our way? I know there's more."

"Like I'd t-tell you," he sputtered through blood and puffed lips. "I have my p-pride! You can b-beat me all you want, but y-you can never make me sell out my allies!"

"How admirable." Both Joutarou and Joaquín raised their fists, ready to cave his skull in. Rubber Soul almost shrieked when he saw this and began spilling what he knew.

"W-Wait! I'll tell you! I only know their tarot cards! 'Wheel of Fortune', 'The Hanged Man', 'The Empress', and 'The Emperor'. There's a few more, but even I don't know who they are! They're not a part of the M-Major Arcana!"

"And their abilities," asked Joaquín.

"I don't know." As if he expected them to let loose, he hastily said, "I mean it, I-I really don't know! Stand users are secretive about their powers! They don't show it to their allies on the g-grounds that they may betray them for knowing their weakness! That's why all of them are mostly working alone." He then lowered his voice. "B-But... I _do_ know one. It's the son of this old hag that D-Dio found. She told him everything about Stands. His Stand is the card 'The Hanged Man'. It uses m-mirrors, from what I heard.

"His name is J. Geil. He's the man who k-killed Polnareff's sister."

A frightening image of a twisted man showing off his two right hands flashed in Joaquín's mind. _Looks like the real Noriaki was right. That rapist_ is _working for Dio. And he's coming after us._ Knowing Jean Pierre, he would leave them and go after him alone. It would have to be for the best. It was _his_ business, not Joaquín's. Rubber Soul spoke again, bringing his attention back to reality. "O-Okay. I told you. Now can I go?"

"Go," asked Joaquín silkily. "Oh, I'll let you go. Straight to the hospital. You have our word."

"Oh, you mean it?" A sincere smile broke out on his face. "T-Thank you! Oh god, thank you!"

"But you still owe us something," said Joutarou. "You killed some poor kid's dog and a lady earlier. Plus you made a mockery of my friend Kakyouin."

"W-What? I-It was a joke." Rubber Soul laughed nervously. "I was joking, Joutarou- _kun_! Can't you take a joke? I-I mean, look at me! My face is broken! Ha ha... I would have to eat food through a straw! Isn't that enough?"

This man was pathetic. Too pathetic to waste any more words on. The Joestar brothers had nothing left to say to this killer. Both Preciosa and Star Platinum began pummeling him from his front and his back, their cries a mingled maelstrom of " _¡_ _TOMATOMATOMA!_ " and " _ORAORAORA!_ " and their fists a hurricane of pain. Their user's eyes found each other, and their lips curved into smiles.

" _This was quite the bonding experience, don't you think, little bro_ ," asked Joaquín.

" _Yare yare daze_ ," Joutarou muttered his usual catchphrase. " _It honestly has. Can't say I wouldn't wanna do something like this again. But next time, let's go somewhere where we won't get attacked._ "

" _How does an aquarium sound?_ "

" _I don't know. Probably fishy._ "

And they shared in a laugh that only two brothers could have after a bad joke.

Rubber Soul would end up in the hospital for six months as opposed to one.

~+JO*JO+~

The group had finally left Singapore the next day. It was a shame they couldn't stay longer and enjoy the view, but they had a mission. Joaquin took a mental note to go back there on a vacation. _As long as it's nowhere near that hotel_ , he thought with a disappointed sigh. _I'm sure we're never allowed there again after the fiasco with Jean Pierre and_ Abuelito _. It's too bad. I liked that place._ It didn't matter, for more incredible sights awaited along their way to India.

They were all sitting at tables aboard the train, having enjoyed a wonderful lunch. Jean Pierre was sharing a story about his childhood with Joseph and Mohamed as the others sat at a different table. Joaquín was complementing the piece of jewelry Della had put on before they ate. "Have you always had that necklace," he asked, referring to a beautiful golden necklace with a turquoise charm hanging from it.

"Yes, I have," she answered, running her thumb over the gem. "I've had this since I was a child. My mother gave it to me, saying it belonged to her mother. It was a gift from the Italian man she fell in love with. It's kind of sad, but every night, she would pray with this necklace for him to come back to her. He never did. The last anyone's seen him was in Venice. Nobody knows where he is now."

"I'm sorry to hear that. I'm sure he's alive somewhere. Maybe he's still in Italy. Who knows. Do you know his name?"

"No. Not even my grandmother did. She never bothered to ask."

"Maybe you should take a blood test. I'm pretty sure you can trace it back to him that way." He hoped that this man, whoever he was, was still alive. If he was, then she would have one more member of her original family back in her life. Leaving the subject at that, he turned to the real Kakyouin Noriaki beside him and said, " _Anyway, Noriaki, I_ still _can't believe you decided to go suntan that early in the morning_ _._ _Wouldn't you have known we were leaving about an hour later?_ "

" _I'm sorry_ ," apologized Noriaki politely. His skin was less pale than before. " _I honestly forgot the time we were leaving. When you're sunbathing, you tend to forget everything else._ "

" _At least you're safe and sound_ ," said Della. Her Japanese had improved since they began their journey. " _We almost thought you were dead._ "

" _It'll take more than a blob to take me down. Still, I'm shocked to find out there was a Stand user who could take the form of whoever he wants. I hope we don't run into anyone else with similar powers... Say, Jojo_ ," he looked at Joutarou, who was gazing out the window. He pointed to the cherries from his already eaten dessert. " _Can I have your cherries? I know they're not much, but they're my favorite._ "

" _Sure_ ," he grunted. Noriaki voiced his thanks and took them. He put one in his mouth and proceeded to play with it, licking at it with unconscious seductiveness and casually saying " _Rerorerorero_ " with his tongue. Joaquín 's jaw slowly dropped and his eyes widened comically. It looks like Rubber Soul wasn't just screwing with them with that cherry the day before.

Joaquín coughed and asked tentatively, " _Hey, Noriaki, do you have a girlfriend?_ "

He stopped his licking and ate the cherry. " _No. Why do you ask?_ "

" _Cause if you did, she'll definitely love that tongue of yours on_ _her_ _cherry_ _._ "

Noriaki was left confused by that statement as Joaquín laughed hysterically. While Della did not share the same humor as he, his brother certainly got a chuckle from that. It looks like he finally got to make that dirty joke after all.

~RUBBER SOUL: RETIRED~


	16. Lollipop

Ch. 16  
Lollipop

DECEMBER 7TH, 1988  
18:28  
BAY OF BENGAL, INDIAN OCEAN

Meditation was something Joaquín had never pictured himself doing. Especially when it came to using his _hamon_ in tandem. Yet there he was, sitting cross-legged on the deck of the ship letting out a long, uninterrupted breath. All of his focus was on his breathing. It was suggested to him by his grandfather not long after they set sail from Myeik to another city in Burma. Joseph wanted to see just how strong his _hamon_ was, and after a brief demonstration of his strength, he was rather impressed.

"You're actually more powerful than as I was when I was a teenager," he complimented, though he did add, "But you are by no means as powerful as I was after my training. Almost a full month of intense training while wearing a restrictive breathing mask has gotten me to where I am. And had I continued practicing my _hamon_ , I would be looking much younger than I already am." And with that, he gave him a challenge to help improve his technique:

"Learn to take one breath in ten minutes, then exhale for another ten minutes."

For a fleeting moment, Joaquín would have thought this was impossible. But he remembered that he had been able to breathe in and out longer than anyone is capable of doing. Doing that for twenty minutes no longer sounded impossible. And so, he spread the word around that he did not want to be disturbed as he went up to the deck and practiced. It took a moment, but he was able to find the perfect amount of air to inhale and exhale for the allotted time his grandfather suggested.

And so there he sat, seven minutes into exhaling his one sole breath. His entire body was glowing with _hamon_ , warmth spreading all throughout. The mind was clear of all other thoughts except his breathing, the sounds of the ship and the ocean below them drowned out. Nothing else mattered at this moment. His mind and spirit were one and at peace.

"Hey, Jojo!"

And just like that, the peace was broken. So was his breathing. The unexpected call of Della's voice brought Joaquín into reality and for his breath to be expelled sooner than he had anticipated. The glow of his _hamon_ had dissipated as well. While he was unable to achieve exhaling in ten minutes, he was not at all upset that his girlfriend interrupted him. On the contrary, when he stood up to see Della advancing towards him, he smiled and opened his arms invitingly for her.

"We're about to reach Rangoon in a couple of minutes," she said as she hugged him tightly. "Sorry for bugging you, Jojo."

"Not at all," he reassured. "I wasn't doing anything important."

"Yes you were. You were doing _hamon_ training. That stuff's really important. Especially since we have to face Dio in Egypt. I mean, eventually."

Joaquín chuckled and kissed her forehead. "I know. But even then, I don't know if it'll be that useful. He's already dealt with _hamon_ before, so it'll be really tricky landing a good hit on him if he already knows what I'm capable of."

"Doesn't mean you can't try." Even when he was showing humility, she still had faith in him. It really did warm his heart. "Come on, everyone's waiting for you."

With a nod, Joaquín followed her to the other side of the deck, where his grandfather and the others were watching. His belongings had already been gathered beside Joutarou. In the distance, he could just make out a slowly growing cityscape of Rangoon. It did not look as grandiose as Singapore, but it seemed to give off a similar air of beauty.

"We're almost there," he muttered, right before turning to Mohamed. "Hey, Mohamed, you know anything about this place?"

The fortune-teller did not look at him at first, but he could tell there was something sad in his eyes as he looked out towards Rangoon. It was an unnatural look for him. When he did turn to Joaquín, his voice seemed to match his eyes.

"Joaquín, Burma was… is… not a peaceful country. It is under a totalitarian military regime. The people of this country are in a crisis, so to speak. The students of a Rangoon university were not pleased and took it upon themselves to protest. Not only students, but monks, doctors, even children, united in an organized strike against their oppressors. It is far more complex than it sounds, but from what I have gathered, it ended in bloodshed. Chaos, riots, the deaths of thousands. They spared no expense."

Everyone looked at him with wide, horrified eyes. Even Joutarou looked disturbed. Jean Pierre spoke up, voicing what was surely on everyone elses' mind. "They didn't… They didn't kill children… did they?" But Mohamed did not answer. His expression did that for him. " _Mon Dieu…_ That's… But why? Why would they kill innocent children?! What have they done to deserve such a cruel fate?!"

"They were following orders. And the weight of their heinous crime will not be fully realized until they stand before God and are judged. For now, they will live the rest of their lives knowing that they have done wrong. That is... _if_ they have felt any guilt at all."

It was almost surreal. This entire time, Joaquín had only been focused on the crimes of Dio and the threat he posed to mankind. He forgot that there were other threats in the world. Other battles being fought. The stories his grandfather told him took place almost fifty years ago. As the battle with the Pillar Men unfolded, the world was on the brink of a second World War. At that moment, Joaquín was reminded of the very harsh reality that some of the worst tragedies _weren't_ orchestrated by Stand users.

And he felt disgusted.

Shaking his head, Joaquín looked out towards the city. The lights forming in the distance were no longer beautiful, but sorrowful. It made him want to cry for those murdered by their own government. They would be staying for one night before their ship takes off to their next destination. And he was thankful for that.

"I know it's depressing," spoke up Joseph, patting his grandson's shoulder consolingly, "but we shouldn't let that linger on our minds. Besides, I don't want to see my boys so glum. I'll tell you what. Before we turn in at a hotel, let's all go into the city and try to enjoy our time there. We deserve at least one calm, relaxing night with no Stands and no violence. I mean, we've been lucky after we left Singapore."

"You sure, _Abuelito_?" And he wasn't referring to the lack of an attack. "I mean, it wouldn't be disrespectful for seven foreigners to just hit the town in the wake of slaughter?"

"I'm not saying we shouldn't pay our respects. But we should at least get a break. What do you all say?" He turned to the others, their faces calmer but now wary. "Who wants to join me?"

Joutarou and Noriaki looked at one another before nodding together. Jean Pierre vocally agreed about a break ("So long as we check out our hotel rooms together."). Della took her boyfriend's hand and nodded, agreeing to join the group for the night. But Mohamed shook his head.

"I am sorry, but I cannot," he apologized, his voice still filled with that uncharacteristic melancholy. "I do not wish to join you. After all I have heard, I have no desire to walk those blood-stained streets." He then flashed them a sad smile. "I would convince you not to go, Mr. Joestar, but you are, without vulgarity, a stubborn mule. All I can do is wish you all a safe night, and that you do nothing to insult those who suffered or those who caused said suffering."

Joseph nodded, understanding completely. "You don't have to worry about us. We'll be in one piece once we retire for the night." And with that, they all waited with patience and anticipation to disembark in Rangoon.

~+JO*JO+~

 _I was right about Rangoon_ , thought Joaquín as he traversed the streets. _It_ does _feel just as beautiful as Singapore._ The group had checked into a hotel the minute they arrived in the city. With that out of the way, everyone sans Mohamed took off to the streets to take in the sights. There was plenty to do and see in the night, from visiting the Great Dragon Pagoda to stopping at a small restaurant to eat some Burmese cuisine. His grandfather sure seemed to be enjoying himself. They all were.

Despite their fun, they did not forget what they were told had happened in this city. People had died, protesting for peace and a better government. And for their troubles, they were killed. There was no reform. There was no justice. It wasn't fair, and for a moment, Joaquín wished that he could help them. _But it's not my battle_ , he thought ruefully as they wandered the streets. _I can't interfere. None of us can._ All they could do was spare a moment of silence to respect those felled by their leaders.

Before everyone knew it, the night was slowly drawing to a close. It had been several hours, and everyone was tired. None more so than Jean Pierre, who was wincing with each step.

" _Merde_ , my feet are killing me," he said in a pained voice. "The sooner we get back to that hotel, the better. I feel so exhausted."

"You weren't saying that earlier when you were eyeing those tourist girls," chided Joseph teasingly. "Besides, you can't say you didn't have any fun."

The Frenchman sighed and smiled. "Yeah. I think we all did." He looked at his friends, all of whom had tired, complacent looks on their faces. "It's been a rather good night, _Monsieur Joestar_. I almost wish it didn't have to end."

"We _could_ make one last stop," chimed in Della some feet behind them. Everyone turned around and noticed she had stopped in front of a small building, staring in amazement through a window. "Anyone wanna visit a candy store?"

Approaching to get a better look, Joaquín was able to see that this building was not at all like the others. Its brown walls were covered with frosted designs and assorted, colorful candies. Barber poles spun lazily by the decorative door like candy canes. Red, heart-shaped licorice surrounded its small, bright windows. It looked almost like a gingerbread house. Shining above the entrance were neon, candy-cane words that spelled out _LOLLIPOP LAND_.

"I haven't been to a candy store in a long time," said Joseph, looking at the building in amazement. "This place really does stand out among the other buildings. It's weird. And interesting. Just looking at it makes my mouth water."

"I feel tempted to just eat this store from the outside in," moaned Jean Pierre, just as amazed. "Like that house from Hansel and Gretel. Maybe there's a witch waiting in there to trap and cook us." A few of them laughed at his joke, but at the mention of the word "trap", Joaquín couldn't help but feel wary now. This wouldn't be the first time they were fooled and subsequently attacked by a Stand in the process. Perhaps, like the child-hungry witch in the fairy tale, there was a Stand user lying in wait.

Joutarou did not hesitate to point this out. "You might be right, Polnareff. We can't just walk in here like it's nothing. We've been safe so far, but we can't drop our guard down just yet. Dio may as well have planted a Stand user inside to kill us."

Jean Pierre looked outraged. "T-That was a joke! Besides, is he really that desperate to send an assassin to kill us in a candy store?! Come on, it's safe to go in!" As he said this, a young woman walked passed by them, gave the store a curious look, then went inside. "See?!"

"Give it a second." They waited with bated breath, expecting a scream to erupt at any second. But when it became clear that nothing murderous took place, Joutarou relaxed. "Okay. Maybe it _is_ safe. But that doesn't mean we shouldn't be careful. You never know what's in store for us."

 _I agree_ , thought Joaquín as they all walked inside. Unlike the outer walls, the inner walls were creamy white. It brought to mind white chocolate. The floor beneath was made of polished wood, like caramel. All around them were countless shelves and barrels full of candy. Lollipops of different sizes, long ropes of licorice, a rainbow assortment of jellybeans, variously-flavored chocolates. And the sweet aroma lingering in the air was both welcoming and sweet. It was a candy-coated heaven.

"Oh my god," whispered Joseph, approaching a wall dedicated entirely to Wonka sweets. "This is incredible. I've never been to such a candy store in my life… It's like a fat boy's dream come true!"

" _C'est incroyable_ ," muttered Jean Pierre, looking into a barrel full of gumballs. Without so much as a second thought, he takes one out and pops it into his mouth. This earned him some rather reproachful gazes from the others. "What? It's not like I won't pay for this. I'm not a scumbag when it comes to this."

"If you say so." Joseph looked back at one of the Wonka bars on the wall before falling into the same temptation. "Oh, why not? If you all want to eat something, go ahead. Just keep track of what you took and we can pay for it all accordingly."

While the others went around the store, browsing and picking out their favorite candies to munch on, the Joestar brothers stood awkwardly rooted to the spot. Joaquín liked candy, but it felt somewhat wrong to just eat candy without paying for it first. Especially since there was no clerk in sight, who he assumed was busy elsewhere. _Maybe they're upstairs_ , he thought as he looked at the staircase in one corner of the store.

Their grandfather came back with a handful of chocolate bars and some packets of gum, a merry look on his bearded face. "Why don't you two have some? This stuff's really amazing. Here!" He leans over to a small stand filled with lollipops and handed one to Joutarou. "Have a sucker, sucker!"

Joutarou looked unamused, but he begrudgingly took it. For a moment, it looked as if he were smoking a really thin cigarette when he put it in his mouth, and perhaps he thought the same too. It might have looked funny, but Joaquín did not laugh. I _'m not taking any candy until I see a clerk or someone else that works here_ , he thought defiantly. _I'm sorry, but that doesn't seem right. And there's nothing that can convince me otherwise._ Not even the coconut candy bar Della offered him could change his mind.

As the brothers were browsing through the shelves, Joutarou looked over his shoulder with a noticeable gleam in his eyes. The gleam of suspicion. " _Something wrong, bro_ ," asked Joaquín as they passed Noriaki, who was idly dancing his tongue around a cherry-flavored candy.

" _Yeah, there is_ ," he said as he finished his lollipop. " _Have you noticed that we're missing a customer?_ "

" _Missing?_ " He took a moment to peek around the corner. The others were laughing at his grandfather getting gum stuck in his beard. " _No, everyone's here._ "

" _Not from our group. That lady that went in before us. I haven't seen her anywhere after we came in. And it's not as if she passed by us unnoticed. We would have noticed._ "

" _Now that you mention it_ ," said Noriaki as he approached with a quizzical look on his face, " _I haven't noticed her around either. On top of that, there's still nobody at the register. Is anyone even working here or did they forget to close up shop?_ "

Noriaki had a point. But before he could say anything, both Jean Pierre and his grandfather, beard still stuck with gum, came around the corner. "Hey, what's going on over here," asked Joseph, and after being told what they noticed, he brushed it off. "Oh, I don't think that's anything to worry about. I think she's just a worker here, and we came just as she was about to clock in. Maybe she's in the back, or upstairs."

" _Abuelito_ , I don't think she does," said his eldest grandson, a worried expression growing on his face. "She'd be wearing a uniform, and she would have acknowledged us. Plus, we've been here for… what, almost fifteen minutes? And she hasn't come back yet. Not only that, but… I've been having this weird thought since Della showed us the shop. What.. What kind of candy shop is open at ten at night?"

Joseph's eyes widened, as if what Joaquín said was right. No shop like this would ever be open at night. The air slowly grew tense, the same tenseness they felt every time a Stand user was nearby. _This place is a trap_ , thought Joaquín, realizing how true Jean Pierre's joke was. _We have to get out of_ -

His thoughts were cut off by Della's horrified scream erupting from a corner of the shop. The entire group ran towards her voice, entering a small hallway with several doors for men and womens' bathrooms. There was another door that acted as a supply closet. Knowing the scream came from the second, they all burst inside and witnessed Della looking into an open stall with a look of complete horror on her face.

"Della, what's going on," cried Joaquín as he ran to see what was in the stall. What he saw made him reel back in shock. Laying beside the toilet, as if she was trying to throw up, was the lady who had entered before. Her hair was disheveled and her face just as horrified as his girlfriend's. Only she looked blue from asphyxiation. The sight of this woman's corpse made his blood freeze up. "Oh god... She's dead… What on earth could have- huh?!"

To their great shock, the body twitched. A sick, retching noise came from her open mouth, and something was beginning to bulge in her throat. Something was being pushed out, and before any of them could wonder what it was, the corpse coughed up a fat jawbreaker straight at them. It was shot with such velocity that it shattered right against Joaquín's head, making him clutch it and cry out in pain.

"FUCK," he cursed loudly, his Stand appearing beside him. The corpse, twitching and twisting, rose to her feet and spewed jawbreaker after jawbreaker at the two. Preciosa's blurry fists punched away at the hardened candies, deflecting them back at the corpse. With several of the balls lodging themselves in her head, the body collapsed. "Quick, we gotta get out of here! We're under attack!"

"You don't have to tell us twice," yelped Jean Pierre, and they all ran out of the bathroom. But when they did, they did not, in fact, enter the hall with the doors. Rather, they re-entered the shop's main room. From where the front door was. "What the hell? Why are we here? Weren't we over there?" He pointed to the hall in the distance.

"We were," Joutarou muttered. "But we're back at the entrance. Is this a Stand that did it?"

"Of course it's a Stand! Everything crazy that happens to us is because of a Stand! This place… It must be like that ship! I'm sure of it!"

Joaquín took a moment to look behind himself, only to see a solid wall. The bathroom entrance, and the front entrance in general, was completely gone. He made Preciosa punch the wall, only to have it bounce back like gelatin. Jean Pierre was right. Again. _This entire shop has to be a Stand. Which means the user would have complete control over everything… The walls, the candy…_

"Guys, we need to keep out guards up," he spoke up. "Jean Pierre has a point. If this stand is like that ship, then whoever's controlling it would be preventing us from escaping and would use anything to attack us. Even the candy. We all need to start looking for that user, and quick."

But they hadn't a moment to formulate a plan when the shelves and barrels all began to shake. The group huddled together, their Stands phasing into view and prepared to fight. The shaking grew more violent, reaching such a pitch that they almost looked blurred. Suddenly, long ropes of licorice sprung out from a barrel and lashed out like tentacles towards them. Silver Chariot wasted no time in showing off his lightning-fast swordsmanship to cut apart the candied ropes to pieces.

Just as the licorice was stopped, a nearby barrel expanded like a rainbow balloon. The wood and metal burst apart and were sticking onto a mass of gum slowly rising into monstrous creature. It was as tall as the room itself. The gum golem roared at them, and in that instant, the room went into pandemonium. Chocolate bars burst and into melted into puddles of slug-like creatures. Candy canes sharpened themselves and flew out at them. Everything came to life with one sole purpose:

Kill the Joestar group.

"Son of a bitch," shouted Joseph. "Looks like we have to fight! Kakyouin, take out that chocolate! Joutarou, Joaquín, break whatever you can! Della, you stay with the boys! Polnareff, let's you and I take out that gum! And don't forget, we have to find the Stand user!"

Everyone's Stands began working in tandem to fight against the rebelling sweets. Hermit Purple began to hold the massive gum golem in place as Silver Chariot slashed away at it. Shining shards of emerald from Hierophant Green shot out at any candy that flew at them, as well as the chocolate slugs. Both Star Platinum and Preciosa were tearing down shelves and barrels with the same destructive force as a hurricane.

But nothing seemed to work.

Silver Chariot's sword and Hermit Purple became entangled in gum. The slugs were unharmed, spraying searing hot chocolate on Noriaki's Stand. And what was worse, the candy they all destroyed was beginning to regenerate and fly at them as if nothing deterred them. Everything was practically invincible.

"W-What gives with this candy," exclaimed Joaquín. "This should all be destroyed, so why is it coming- ARGH!" A tangle of licorice wrapped themselves around his wrists, lifting him into the air like a prisoner. Before anyone could try to pull him down, the entire floor melted away into actual caramel. Everyone's feet, except for the monster, had sunk into the gooey substance. "Shit! Guys, get out of there! quickly!"

" _We can't_ ," exclaimed Noriaki as he tried pulling his feet out. " _It's like glue! We're stuck in the caramel like flies!_ " Another Emerald Splash was fired at the golden mess, but every gemstone bounced off and struck some flying candies down. " _Nothing is working! We need Avdol-san's fire here!_ "

"Flames aren't gonna get you out of your little mess, baby boy!"

A girl's voice, sugary and sickly sweet, had rung out among the chaos. It seemed to be coming from everywhere, yet nowhere as there were no speakers to be seen. It almost sounded as if it came from above them.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I ought to introduce myself before my candy turns you all into snacks. My name is Chordette. And this is Lollipop Land. As you can already guess, my Stand is capable of using every bit of candy in here to trap and kill you. Wanna know why you came back to the entrance after leaving the bathroom? It's because I can rearrange this shop however I want to. If I wanted to, I'd have you all running in circles, but since I don't have much time to waste, I figured I'd kill you all here and now."

"Where the fuck are you, you coward," growled Joaquín as he struggled to break free. Preciosa was unable to rip apart his bindings. "We know you're in here, and we won't rest until we find and kick your ass!"

"Well, since you're so eager to know, I'm right on the second floor. But my Stand would just bring you back here if you tried going up those stairs. You can never reach me. You can never escape. You're all gonna die. And when you do, Lord Dio will give me exactly what he promised me!" She let out a joyous laugh at their impending doom, and she had every reason to be. There was no escape. The more everyone tried to free themselves, the more stuck they became. It was useless.

 _No_ , thought Joaquín defiantly. _We're not gonna die. We have a mission to carry out. The lives of countless people are at stake here, especially my mother's. We're not going to die here, I refuse to let it happen._ But how would they escape? How would they find the user? She said she was above them, but the stairs were virtually useless. And it's not like any openings in the ceiling would lead them to her. _Unless…_

Joaquín did a quick scan of the ceiling. And there, in one corner of the room, was a metal air vent. There was the answer. And he knew exactly what needed to be done.

" _Noriaki_ ," he called to the youth below him. When he looked up, Joaquín pointed his eyes and a foot directly at the vent. He followed his line of sight to the air vent and gasped.

" _There,_ " he exclaimed. " _Chordette, there may be no escape for us, but likewise, there is no escape for you! Hierophant Green!_ " The robotic Stand shot straight for the vent, folding itself into a mass of tentacles and sliding straight in. Chordette must have been panicking now, for the flying candy and the gum monster now turned their attention to Noriaki. " _Everyone, cover me! Hierophant is searching for the user! These vents have to lead up to the second floor! Just give me some cover!_ "

Everyone agreed, their Stands getting back to work. Star Platinum freed both Hermit Purple and Silver Chariot, keeping the golem at bay while the others deflected and broke every piece of regenerating candy. Preciosa did the best it could at its current range, even going as far as to throw searing-hot globs of his slime at the golem. His _hamon_ seemed to work, as the gum was beginning to melt away where it was struck. Star Platinum punched away at the melted areas, easily tearing the monster apart.

Just as things were beginning to grow uncontrollably hectic, there was a scream above them. It was the girl. She had been found. "No! You weren't supposed to get up here that easily! Damnit! Get away! GET AWAY!" There was a muffled scuffle coming from the ceiling, followed by the struggling grunts of Chordette. "Fuck you, Kakyouin! Let me go! Now!"

" _Not a chance_ ," said Noriaki, his focus entirely on whatever was going on above them. " _As I said, you cannot escape me. But I'm willing to let you go, only if you free my friends and call off your attack._ "

"No! Let me go!"

" _The more noncompliance you show, the more breath my Stand will squeeze out of you. Now stand down, or else-_ " His eyes widened, and a painfully anguished cry filled the room. Everything seemed to stop at that moment, including the flying candy, now halted in midair. There was a foreboding silence as Hierophant Green slithered back to his user.

Della was the first to break it, asking, " _N-Noriaki… Did you… kill her?_ "

" _O-Of course not_ ," he answered shakily. " _I-I only gave her a squeeze and… her bones… I broke a few bones… My grip on her wasn't even that strong._ "

Then, everything fell apart. The candy fell into the caramel, dissolving together into a mud-like substance. The gum golem broke down into the mud as well. The walls, shelves, everything, melted into the floor and faded away. They were free, and what remained was a barren, dark and derelict shop that had not been disturbed for years. The Stand was simply creating an illusion within the building, just like Strength did with a dinghy.

The bindings on Joaquín melted, allowing him to fall to the ground unharmed. He looked up the stairs as he rubbed his aching wrists. "That Stand user," he mused. "We have to check on her. Something doesn't seem right."

"What if it's another trap," his grandfather said warily. "I'm not up for fighting another mountain of gum. I say we leave her and-" But nobody was listening. Joaquín led the rest of the group up to the second floor. He joined after a moment of hesitation. "Fine. But if she attacks again, we let her have it."

"Mr. Joestar, I don't think she's in fighting condition anymore," said Della, sounding sad. "Dio's follower or not, I don't think anyone's willing to fight with broken bones. Jojo's right. There's something horribly wrong."

He said no more, and the group made it up into a completely different room. It was not filled with candy, but rather broken boxes and cobwebs. A chamber neglected by its previous owner. Right in the middle in a crumpled position was a girl, pale-skinned and wearing a rather bright pink dress one would see in a pop video. The curls on her head split with one half pink and the other blue, resembling cotton candy. Her arms were bent in unnatural and painful angles from the squeezing, and her breathing was ragged.

Yet her bizarre and injured appearance wasn't what caught Joaquín's attention It was how young she looked.

"You're… Chordette," he asked, trying to keep his shock out of his voice. When her soft, pale eyes found him and she nodded, he couldn't help but take a step back. The implications were appalling "But… you're a little girl! Probably no older than eleven! What're _you_ doing working for Dio?"

"He promised," she struggled to speak through her pain. "He promised me… a cure… my mother and I… were promised a cure… if I kill… for him… He gave me Lollipop Land… and I would promise him… your heads… I don't know how long I… could live… My days are… were… numbered… so I took a chance at… one last gamble…"

Something was growing cold in his heart. _She only did this find a cure for a disease_ , he thought mournfully as he beheld the broken, dying girl before him. _S_ _he's just a little girl… And she was used by Dio… Does she know he would have never granted her such a wish?_

Swallowing his heart, Joaquín tenderly said, "Dio… is an evil man. He would never keep his word. Some people would boast that they'd be paid handsomely for killing us. But to cure… whatever you have-"

"Bone cancer," added Chordette, and the cold growing in his heart chilled his entire being.

"-your bone cancer," he said, keeping his voice level as he shook. "Dio lied. He wanted you to believe that. He wanted to give you hope. He had no intention of curing you."

Chordette smiled and coughed. Everyone winced when she let out a pained whimper. Something had audibly cracked in her chest. "I know… I wanted to believe… I wanted that chance… My mother tried… stopping me…I left home and she… searched for me… put up fliers… She knew about Lollipop Land… Someone found my shop… and pointed her to me… This trap was meant… for you all… I told her… Mom was upset…

"We argued… and…" Tears leaked freely from her watery eyes. "My Stand… that woman… was her… A corpse now… But she was once my mother... I didn't mean to… I loved her… But I was upset… I didn't want to die..! She needed to understand..!"

"We understand, Chordette," whispered Della, crying for the little girl's pain. "We all do… You sought out to do what was right, even if it was immoral. Out of everyone we fought, your wish, your desire… it was a selfless one… Dio preyed on your illness and took advantage of you!" And gingerly, she embraced the girl. Their former attacker looked like a small porcelain doll in her arms, her face a portrait of sadness and pain.

Everyone seemed to be beside themselves. Joseph's hands were shaking, Joutarou tilted his torn cap over his darkened eyes. Jean Pierre couldn't bear to look at her, trying not to cry himself. Joaquín was on the verge of throwing up. But the one who looked the worst was Noriaki. This entire time, his eyes were wide, his breathing shallow. Like the Burmese who shot innocent children, he knew that his actions would stick with him until the day he died.

With a trembling voice, Noriaki said, " _C-Chordette… Forgive me… I... I shouldn't have held you like that… Your bones… I didn't know they were so brittle. Please... forgive me._ "

It was odd to be apologizing and feeling sympathy for a follower of Dio. Yet, as Della said, she was far purer than anyone else. She fought not out of greed, but for freedom. Nobody had known that except her. Chordette shook her head and smiled weakly up at him. She took a shaky breath and whispered. "It's okay… Kakyouin… I… forgive you… just… do me one favor..?"

The youth knelt before her, Della making room for him. He took her hand in his and locked eyes with hers. " _Yes. W-What is it?_ "

"Please… don't… stop… fighting…" With what little strength she had left, she squeezed his hand. She looked at them all with a sad smile, and they, in turn, looked at her with the horrified, saddened eyes of men who had inadvertently killed a child. Then, her hand dropped. She had let out her final breath.

Chordette had succumbed to her wounds.

~+JO*JO+~

A teacher once told Joaquín that victory was defined as an achievement in a struggle against all odds. _So then why don't I feel as if we've achieved nothing?_ Sure, they were able to live another day, but it came at the price of killing a young girl, misled by a tyrant. Someone they could have allowed several more days to live, free from his twisted ideals and false promises. While he has killed before, he had never felt a more unworthy, hollow victory in his life. And he knew, deep down, it wouldn't be the last.

Though every cloud has a silver lining. Chordette's death, awful as it was, drove them more. Dio had brought innocent children into the fray, taking advantage of a poor girl's desire to defeat her disease. Their desire to purge the world of his malice was stronger than ever. Especially Noriaki's, who unwittingly took her life. He, as well as the others, vowed never to take the life of a child again, no matter how evil or powerful their Stand is.

Speaking of powerful, a loud retch and the rush of something thick echoing into a toilet brought his attention to their current battle. The candy that the others had eaten was apparently poisonous. They ate only small amounts; not enough to kill, but definitely enough to make them want to violently vomit. He expected rainbows of candy to be spat up, but instead, the same muddy substance the store melted into earlier that night was what erupted from their mouths.

" _Why did_ jijii _convince me to eat that lollipop_ ," groaned Joutarou before rushing into his room to throw up. If there was another silver lining to this night is that neither Joaquín nor an amused Mohamed had any candy to eat. He was certainly going to be avoiding any sweets for the remainder of the trip.

 _Wait until after your trip_ , he sighed in his mind as he got up to go soothe his girlfriend. _You'll have that coconut bar soon._

~CHORDETTE (1977-1988): RIP~

* * *

STAND TIME

STAND USER: Chordette (コーデット)

STAND NAME: Lollipop Land (ロリポップランド)

POWER: B, SPEED: D, RANGE: E, DURABILITY: A, PRECISION: A, POTENTIAL: B

ABILITY: Lollipop Land, named after both The Chordettes' song and Candy Land the board game, is a Stand similar in concept to Forever's Strength. The Stand binds itself to an abandoned building, turning itself into a two-story gingerbread house filled with assorted candies inside. The candy, like Strength, can fight back in creative ways. Consuming said candy can lead to varying levels of poisoning depending on how much is eaten, only being lethal in large amounts. The layout of the building can change to the user's needs, confusing those who are trapped within its impenetrable walls. Its only flaw is that the user is bound to a single, secluded room on the second floor that cannot change locations and is only accessible through an unchanging ventilation system. Only the user can stop its attack, whether passively or through force.


	17. Mano A Mano

Ch. 17  
Mano A Mano

DECEMBER 12TH, 1988  
15:06  
CALCUTTA, INDIA

"Tokyo, Hong Kong, Singapore, Burma... And now, we're finally crossing India."

Joseph had listed off the countries they had been to so far, as well as where they were going. At the moment, the group had been waiting patiently on their boat for their arrival in Calcutta. None of them could wait to get on land, where hopefully, their traveling will be easier. _As if that's gonna make a difference_ , thought Joaquín ruefully, knowing that no matter how they travel, they'll always be attacked by more of Dio's merciless minions.

It had been a rather stressful journey thus far. Everywhere they've been, there was always at least one or two of his assassin's lying in wait. Even before they left Japan, both Joaquín and his brother had been attacked. The only true moment moments of peace they had were when they were asleep. And throughout their boat trips through Burma, save for their encounter with poor Chordette. There would be no easy rest the closer they come to Egypt.

"But, to be honest, Avdol," continued Joseph, who scratched his cheek in embarrassment, "I'm actually a bit worried about that. Don't get me wrong, Dio's Stand users are still my top concern, but… this is my first time being in India. The only image I have of that country is one filled with curry-eating, disease-ridden thieves."

"Oh, _Abuelito_ ," sighed Joaquín with embarrassment himself. "You can't just walk into a country believing in such stereotypes. That's just going to make you look like a _peinabombillas_."

"A what," he asked in incredulous confusion.

"Never mind. Point is, it's not gonna look good on you. Or us, for that matter."

"There is a bit of a culture gap, too," piped up Della. "I mean, we're complete foreigners in India. And their culture is far different than what we've seen in other countries." She stole a glance at Jean Pierre, who looked to be the only other person worried. Both she and her boyfriend chuckled. "I think it's going to make at least one of us sick. Maybe we should send someone back."

Mohamed couldn't help but chuckle along with her. He spoke to them all in his usual reassuring voice. "Mr. Joestar, those are simply distorted views. There is nothing to fear in India, everyone. This is a wonderful country with simple folk. I guarantee it. Now, let us not dwell on uncertainty. Calcutta awaits, my friends."

He made an excellent point. It's not right to make an assumption about a country until you've been there to experience what it had to offer. They may experience culture shock due to the different ways of the Indians, but Joaquín was certain they would all benefit from it. They could all learn something new from their time there. _I can feel it_. _We're going to have an interesting trip here. After all, if Mohamed trusts this country, so should we._

Several minutes passed, and the group finally arrived in India. Everything about this country looked rustic thus far. Almost slum-like. But they had no time to say anything about their surroundings, as a mob of excited, loud Indians swarmed them. They weren't bad people, so they assumed. All they wanted was to offer them wares, from tattoos to currency exchange rates to even hashish marijuana. All the while, most of them beckoned with their hands and repeated the word " _baksheesh_ ".

 _I guess they're asking for money_ , realized Joaquín as he watched his grandfather swat away at flies. It was almost funny watching his discomfort. From the beggars to people sleeping on the sidewalks and a cow nonchalantly defecating on the road. It was almost everything _he_ had imagined. The others, barring Mohamed, were showing equal signs of overwhelmed discomfort.

" _Merde_ , I stepped in cow shit," cried out Jean Pierre in disgust.

" _Hey, someone took my wallet_ ," exclaimed Noriaki, who didn't retaliate violently.

"Hey, who touched my butt," yelped Della to a group of kids.

The only other person not phased by all this was Joutarou. Even as children were guilting him into giving them money, he did not look bothered at all. The younger of the brothers looked at his grandfather and asked over the crowd, " _Jijii_ , are you going to order us a taxi?"

"Such an irritating crowd," mussed Joseph before looking up at his grandson. "As soon as I spot one, I will… Ah, there! Hey, taxi! Over here!" As soon as one pulled up before them, some of the crowd made a mad dash to the door. None of them were trying to get in, but rather to open the door for them with the impression that they'd be paid. "My god, this is a nightmare…"

"It could be much worse, _Abuelito_ ," said Joaquín as he stifled a laugh. "None of them are out for our blood."

He grumbled in response and tried to get into the taxi, only for the driver to stop him. "I'm sorry," he apologized, "but we cannot leave just yet." He then pointed to something blocking his taxi. It was the cow, who had decided to rest in their path. "I cannot go until the cow has finished napping. It is a sacred animal, therefore I cannot disturb it."

"Of all the dumb-" Joseph turned to a smiling Mohamed with exasperation. "A-Avdol, is this _really_ India?!"

"Of course it is," he replied. "It's a wonderful country. All this is what makes it so great."

India, according to 19th century Englishmen, was considered the worst place on Earth. With a population of a whopping almost 850 million (a great number of whom are vagrants), it was easy to see why. But at the very least, the air was not somber like Rangoon was several days prior. It was rather peaceful. Though how long that would last given their current situation, none of them knew for certain.

Before they went to choose their hotel, they figured they could stop someplace for dinner. This time, it was Mohamed who chose for them, a rather dainty-looking restaurant that served "the finest Indian cuisine in Calcutta" according to him. Also according to him, the average exchange of one USD to rupee, the country's currency, was 20 rupees. Not a bad exchange.

"I ordered us some chai tea," said Mohamed as they all sat down. "Joaquín, have you ever drank chai before?"

"I've heard of it, but never drank," he admitted as a waiter approached with their drinks. "Is it any good?"

"Well, it is brewed with milk, sugar, and ginger. Depending on your tastes, it just might be." Joaquín, who enjoyed any tea no matter the taste, drank and fell into peace. Everyone, even his grandfather had a complacent look on their faces. "Peaceful, is it not? The point of getting used to a country is to know the depth of its pockets. In other words, Mr. Joestar, you must broaden your viewpoint to what is great rather than what is not.

"Well said, Mr. Avdol," said Della. "It's like back in New York. Sure, some places are scummy, but it's what lies underneath all that scum that makes it such a nice place."

Joutarou set down his cup and stoically added. "She's right. I like this place. It's pretty interesting." While their grandfather was shocked to hear his youngest grandson actually like a place, Joaquín was not at all surprised. _If he likes a place, then there's really nothing to worry about_. Y _ou've got some good taste, bro._

The only person not convinced was Jean Pierre. "India… it's quite the culture shock. I'll like it if I get used so it? Hmph." He stood up out of his seat and made his way to a bathroom. "Well, I guess I can. I mean, I am human, we can adapt to anything."

"Polnareff," called Joseph.

"Yes?"

"Aren't you gonna order something?"

"I'll let you guys order. And it better be something amazing. Something gorgeous and _magnifique_ for my French palate." And so he went, leaving Joseph agape in disbelief.

"He's too much," muttered Joaquín. "Well, I guess that means we can choose whatever." As they all browsed their menus, they all took the time to plan out their next route. "So, I guess we don't have to worry about water for a while, huh? We can just drive a good portion of the way until we get to…"

"Pakistan," said Joseph, unfolding his map on the table for them to see. "I planned it all out on the way over. We can't pass through the Middle East. They just got out of a war with each other, and having foreigners in their land might cause some tension. So we cross Pakistan until we reach a harbor and charter a personal ship to Saudi Arabia, travel straight to the Red Sea, cross that, and we'll already be in Egypt. It sounds easy enough. We just need to take the same precautions as before."

"More so the moment we reach Egypt," said Della. "We'll be on Dio's territory. I'm sure he'll have his most dangerous henchmen there. Hopefully, by that time, my Stand will awaken." At the mention of her _still_ dormant Stand, her expression quickly became downcast. "I do hope it's soon. I… I know I'm trying to help out, but… without one, I almost feel like I'm burdening you all."

The others looked rather hurt by this. The first to even say anything was Joutarou, much to their surprise. "Listen, you're not a burden. You help when the situation calls for it. Hell, from what I heard, you were willing to fight that monkey. Yeah, you don't have a Stand, but you don't need one to help. I should know, more than my brother and grandfather. I mean, look at me. I don't have any _hamon_ at all."

"He's right, Della," said Joaquín, placing a comforting arm around her. "You don't need a Stand or _hamon_ to help. Because you know what you have? Smarts. With that brain of yours, you can outsmart anyone." Quite jarringly, there was a rather girly scream coming from the direction of the bathroom. Everyone's heads turned to it, but nobody stood up just yet. "Was that Jean Pierre?"

Mohamed's eyes lit up in realization before biting down a laugh. "Oh dear. I completely forgot. This restaurant has a unique bathroom. I suppose they have not fixed it since I was last here." He turned to the others, who looked less worried and more confused. "Beneath this restaurant is a pigsty. But it was built too shallow, allowing hungry pigs to peek their heads out of the toilet in search of food."

Now it was Joaquín's turn not to laugh, and with great difficulty. He could only imagine Polnareff feeling a wide snout on his rear end the moment he sat down. "Oh g-geez. You don't think they eat-"

"Unfortunately yes. However, from what I understand, they clean up rather nicely." The others made sounds of mingled amusement and disgust. Not wanting to stay on such a topic, they all placed their orders. It didn't take too long to cook, and the food looked as incredible as they were described. But alas, nobody was able to dig in just yet. From the same direction as where they heard the scream, there was a muffled shout and the shattering of glass.

"Okay, that wasn't a pig this time!" And Joaquín shot out of his chair, running towards the bathroom. He didn't need to make it too far, for around a corner, there stood Jean Pierre and Silver Chariot before a broken mirror. He looked far from scared. "Jean Pierre, what's going on? Was it a- Hey!" His words and presence were ignored as the Frenchman made a mad dash outside. Following right behind him, he beckoned the others to come.

They were led outside the restaurant, where Jean Pierre was frantically looking around the passerby. He was growling to himself. "That Stand..! Which one of them is it..?! That bastard..! With this many people..! Fuck..!"

"Jean Pierre, what happened," asked Della. "Was it a Stand?"

"Just now… Just now that Stand has… Finally..! He's here!"

"Who are you talking about?" But as soon as he said that, Joaquín suddenly knew. The answer flashed in his mind in the form of two right hands. "J-J. Geil?! He's here?!"

He nodded. "Yes. The Stand user who uses mirrors… The bastard who murdered my sister… I've finally found him!"

It was almost jarring. They knew that they would one day have to encounter this mysterious J. Geil, but never this soon. Joaquín felt very unprepared for this. Sure, he knew that he used mirrors, but that was it. _We don't know what he or his Stand look like_ , he thought worriedly as his eyes darted between each passerby's hands. _Nor do we know how effective it is, or its range… Damn, he's right. None of these guys have the deformity. He's probably not even hiding in plain sight…_

 _This guy… is toying with Jean Pierre._

The Frenchman turned and walked back inside the restaurant, coming back with his bag over his shoulder. He looked at nobody, but his pale eyes showed them a cold determination burning within.

" _Monsieur_ Joestar, I must act on my own from here on out." A wave of mild shock passed throughout the group, though they knew this would be how it would play out. This was Jean Pierre's battle, not theirs. "I know Sherry's murderer is here, and I will not sit here and wait for that bastard to attack again. It's not in my nature. Plus, what will I gain if I stay and get attacked again? I'm going to find him and kill him before he does me."

"But you don't even know what this man looks like, or what his Stand can do," Joseph reasoned. But Jean Pierre was stubborn.

"All I need to know is that he has two right hands! Besides, he knows I'm pursuing him. _He_ should be the one worried about being caught off guard!"

They all stood there as they watched their friend walk off to his inevitable failure. It seemed that nobody knew what to say to him anymore. Except for Mohamed. "He who hunts mummies will eventually become one himself."

His level words were enough to stop Jean Pierre, who looked back in acknowledgment of his proverb. He, like Joaquín, knew exactly what he meant by that. He was unprepared. And he would die.

"Polnareff, I can not allow you to leave on your own."

"What was that," Jean Pierre whispered dangerously. "You think I'm going to lose this battle?"

"I do. The enemy is among us. He attacked you on purpose in order to isolate you. Do you not understand? This is a trap, for you."

The tension was growing. Joaquín didn't need Jean Pierre's silent glare or the edge in Mohamed's voice to know an argument was about to break out. He did not want to be a part of this. And neither did Della, given how she clung to his arm with worry. He wanted to intervene, to stop them before one of them said the wrong thing. But he couldn't. It wasn't his place.

"Let's make something clear, Avdol," said Jean Pierre. "I don't care at all about Dio. I told you back in Hong Kong that I was joining you to find my sister's killer. I never said anything about hunting Dio myself." _He was right_ , thought Joaquín bitterly, thinking back to when he first told his story. " _Monsieur_ Joestar and his grandchildren know this. I've been alone from the very beginning, and have fought alone. They all know that this battle is mine to take."

None of the Joestars looked at him, but they knew well enough that he was right again. It was established between them that when the time came, they would not stop him, no matter what. It wasn't because they didn't care. They cared a lot, and if it were up to them, they would be the ones preventing him from leaving. But it would be for naught. And it killed Joaquín on the inside knowing that his new friend's mind would not be at swayed with J. Geil around.

"You conceited fool!" Having uttered those words, Mohamed finally gave up keeping his calm. He approached and came nose to nose with the Frenchman. "Have you forgotten that it was Dio who brainwashed you into subservience?! That it was Dio who is the culprit behind everything we have experienced thus far?!"

"You think you can fucking understand how I feel about my sister's murder," Polnareff shouted, jabbing a finger at his fortune-teller's chest. "You can't because you have never experienced losing a loved one the way I have! Ask your friends!" His finger then moved to the group. "Ask them how it feels! They know better than anyone else what it means! It's happening to them right now!"

While he knew Jean Pierre had a point, it wasn't right to bring his family into the argument. Especially involving his mother. It was now that he spoke up to intervene, his voice clear and hard. "You keep my family out of this. This is between you and Mohamed. If you bring up my mother again, I will beat your fucking face in. Now stop acting like a _tonto_ and just stand down."

"Oh, so you want me to just do nothing, huh? Just like Avdol?" He turned back to a stunned Mohamed and sneered. " _Oui_ , you heard me right. You ran from Dio when you first met him. I heard many things when I was under his control. And that was one of them." He managed to chuckle condescendingly. "It makes sense now. No wonder you don't understand why I'm doing this. Because you're a coward."

The blow of his words was felt all around. Mohamed, who stepped back dumbstruck could only whisper. "W-What did you say?"

"I'm not going to repeat myself. And get off me!" He slapped away Mohamed's hand, which was pressed on him the moment he rounded on him. "You have no right to give me a sermon just because I let you win back in Hong Kong!"

"How _dare_ you..!"

"Oh, what's wrong, have I touched a nerve?" The Frenchman turned his back to him, only giving him a cold, backwards glance. "I have more of a reason to be upset than you. If you would just quit acting so high and mighty as you always do, you would understand that, Mohamed Avdol."

What little restraint Mohamed had finally broken. Eyes alight in flames, he poised his fist to punch at Jean Pierre, who was walking away. But before he could even get at him, Joseph held his arm back with no effort. The fortune-teller's flame went out under the tired gaze of his elderly friend, and the thick air around them calmed.

"That's enough," said Joseph in an almost hollow voice. "Just let him go. We knew this would happen eventually, and we all have to respect his decision. Calm down, Avdol."

He turned away, looking forlornly at the man growing further away from them. "Forgive me. I was… disillusioned. I had never thought of him like this."

 _None of us did_ , and Joaquín knew that despite the anger in his words, Jean Pierre had a point. Being someone whose loved one had fallen to a murderer, he knew just what it was like to want to avenge. Revenge is a powerful drive, and while his was not as grand, Joaquín could understand why he acted the way he did. He was toyed with, which unleashed an unstoppable inferno in Jean Pierre's heart. And it was a sad sight to see.

He looked at his grandfather and wondered just how he was taking this. What unfolded before them all was a familiar scenario to him. Two friends arguing, culminating with one of them stomping off to his inevitable demise. In his eyes, Joseph probably saw himself and Caesar Zeppeli all over again. It must have shaken him badly, for he didn't quite meet Mohamed's eyes when he stopped him. _No wonder he didn't speak up. History's repeating itself. There was nothing he could do._

 _But that doesn't mean there's nothing_ I _can't do…_

~+JO*JO+~

Without Jean Pierre around, a cloud of worry hung over them. There was always a joke to be had around him. Everything felt more relaxed and jovial during their stressful journey. And now that he was gone, possibly for good, the same stress they felt the moment they left Japan reared its ugly head again. Their dinner did not sit well in their stomachs when they returned to the restaurant. And nobody said a word before or after checking into the Hotel Grand.

Not even Joaquín, who had spent the night consoling a crying Della in his arms. Jean Pierre was their friend, no matter what happened. And it wasn't fair that he was throwing his life away all for the sake of blind revenge. Something needed to be done before he was killed. Which was why before they went to sleep, he made her a promise. In the morning, he was going to go look for him. And against his better judgment, he was going to help him.

He wasn't going to let history repeat with another vengeful youth dying alone.

The next morning came, and so did the rain. Under normal circumstances, Joaquín would have waited for the sky to clear up, or at least get a jacket. But there were no jackets to spare, and he could not waste any time not searching for Jean Pierre. He had to chance it. So before he left, he shared a kiss with Della and said, "I'll be back. We both will. Let the others know, okay?" And with that, he took off into the town in search for his friend.

Finding him wasn't difficult. The townsfolk all pointed out where he walked off, all of them being asked about a man with two right hands. Naturally, they never met the freak, and they were better off. _He'd probably kill them just for looking at him funny_ , he thought as he continued his search through the rain. It didn't take long before he managed to find a rather frantic Jean Pierre crossing the street. He noticed Joaquín and stopped dead in his tracks.

"Joaquín?" His eyes widened in shock, then narrowed as he approached with purpose. "What are you doing here?

"My grandfather lost his friend in battle after an argument," he said upon facing him. "I'm not letting history repeat with mine."

"I don't need-"

"I'm not saying we can kill him together. That privilege is yours and yours alone. But just working on your own is gonna end with you getting killed before you can even strike him down. Trust me. I know what it's like to want revenge. You need to keep yourself level and not do anything rash. Besides, I made a promise to Della that we'd both be okay."

The Frenchman's gaze softened an a sigh escaped him. He seemed to reach him much better than Mohamed could. "Alright, fine. You can join me. Just don't get in my way, understand?" He did, and the two made their way into a rather busy street. As the passerby went about their daily routine, the two men approached one of the homeless sitting alone against a building. "You, have you seen a man with two right hands around here," asked Jean Pierre.

He nodded. A cold wave that had nothing to do with the rain pierced them.

"Y-You've seen him," asked Joaquín. "Where? Show us where they went."

The man raised his finger and pointed towards the crowded street. Two distinct figures were making their way towards them. One of them looked like a cowboy, a wide-brimmed hat and a tannish-yellow, tunic-like shirt. The other was wearing an open vest and what looked like an fancy beret. They noticed right away that the rain was not hitting him, his body enveloped by some invisible dome of sorts. _There's no need to check his hands. This guy is him. It's J. Geil…_

"Which one is it?! Where's that bastard?!"

"Huh?" Jean Pierre's shout had startled him somewhat. When he looked back at where the homeless man had pointed, he was shocked to discover that it was only the cowboy approaching. "Wait, wasn't J. Geil with him," Joaquín asked with the same confusion as his friend.

"That's impossible," he growled. "He can't have just disappeared!"

But he did. And as the rain slowed to a halt and the clouds parted to the light of the sun, it became obvious that there was only one person now. And he stopped just a few feet from them. Looking at him closer, he could tell he was quite a mature man with long blonde hair and a broad chin. His hazel eyes and dimpled smile were filled with cocky confidence. It was as if he were ready for an old-fashioned Western stand-off.

"The gun is mightier than the sword," he spoke with a Western drawl. "That's some quote, innit?"

"Who the hell are you," asked Jean Pierre as they watched the man stick a cigarette in his mouth.

"Hol Horse. That's my name. And the Stand I wield is 'Emperor', right from the card of the same name. It's pretty obvious for y'all at this point that Dio's paid me somethin' nice to rub you out."

"Look, you Western prick, we don't need you to introduce yourself. Where's the man with two right hands? Do you know him?"

Hol Horse looked amused at Jean Pierre's anger. "You're a pushy little bastard, ain'tcha? Well, since you're so desperate to know, I figure I can tell you… You see…

"He came with me. And he's right nearby."

 _So he_ was _with him_ , thought Joaquín. _We weren't just seeing things._ "Tell us where he is," he demanded.

"It don't matter whether he's here or not. Cause it's ol' Hol Horse who's gonna clean you boys up."

"You sure are full of yourself," said Jean Pierre, hands on his hips. "Everyone like you has said the same thing, and they all met the same end!" Their assailant simply scoffed at this threat. "What, do I amuse you?"

"It's not that. It's just somethin' Lord Dio told me. He said that you, Polnareff, are the type of guy that don't take things seriously. And that you, Joaquín, are quite an emotional kid who feels he has to protect everyone. Beating you both would be a walk in the park. That's why I was laughing. Because he's right. Heh…"

Joaquín's eye twitched. Dio was right about him, but it was that drive to protect that saved their skins several times. And he would continue to do so until the day he died. He clenched his fists and made an inviting gesture to come at them. "If you wanna think that about us, that's fine by me. But that's not gonna stop us from kicking your ass before we hunt down J. Geil."

Hol Horse scoffed again. This whole time, he had not lit the cigarette bouncing in his mouth as he spoke. "Y'all ever play military chess? Like Stratego? The tanks are stronger than the soldiers but stronger than that are the landmines. Same principles apply to battle. Me bein' Hol Horse, my Emperor is stronger than your Silver Chariot and Preciosa. Since I'm a nice guy, I figure I can clue you in on my Stand's ability before we fight. It's all right in the quote I gave y'all earlier:

"'The gun is mightier than the sword.' Damn, that sounds so nice."

"And your point is..?"

"Simply put, my Stand's a handgun. And last I checked, neither a fist _or_ sword can't beat a gun."

"I'm sorry, did you say our fists and sword can beat your bum," teased Jean Pierre as he cupped his ear. "I didn't know you swung that way."

And with that crack, the tension between them all diffused into raucous laughter. The joke wasn't that funny, but just hearing it was enough to make them all forget that they were meant to be enemies. Joaquín had to hold onto his friend's shoulder because he could barely stand from his laughter. Across from them, Hol Horse was holding his gut and wiping his tearing eyes. For a brief moment, they were all chums sharing a laugh.

Then the laughter stopped.

"I'm gonna kill you, bastard," they all shouted, and out came their Stands. Preciosa and Silver Chariot burst forth, and materializing in Hol Horse's hand was a uniquely crafted revolver. It was his Stand, Emperor.

"Y'all underestimated me, and now y'all are gonna lose," shouted Hol Horse , discarding his cigarette into the air as he took aim and fired. A single golden bullet was whizzing straight at them. Preciosa was already poised to catch and break it, and Silver Chariot had discarded his armor. It was only a bullet. Whether it came from a Stand or not, they would break it all the same. But when Silver Chariot, closest of the two, went to slice the bullet, something frightening happened.

The bullet flew around it, and it was now headed towards Preciosa.

He swiftly shot at it, but his fingers could only pinch air. The bullet curved around his hand as well. _I-Impossible_ , Joaquín thought alarmed. _The bullet's trajectory changed! T-That means that the bullet's a part of the Stand! Shit!_ " They had made the grave error of underestimating Hol Horse's ability. Now they were going to pay the price. Before any of them could move, someone called out to them.

"Polnareff! Joaquin! Move!"

And the two were pushed out of the way. It was none other than Mohamed who brought them onto the ground. The bullet flew by them and curved overhead. They had been saved.

"M-Mohamed", spoke a shocked Joaquín. "W-What're you doing here?" When the fortune-teller looked up, it was clear that there was a serious concern in his scarred face.

"I came because you both had me worried," scolded Mohamed. "What on earth were you both thinking?! You, Polnareff, for being too full of yourself and not heeding my words! And you, Joaquín! You ran off and left your girlfriend worried sick! She was in tears when you left!"

"I did what I thought was right!" They all stood up, and while his anger wasn't as great as Jean Pierre's, he felt a bit upset that he was being reprimanded. "I wasn't going to let my friend die!"

Jean Pierre almost got into his face again. "You were worried about us," he growled in annoyance. "You bastard, you're probably here to lecture me again, aren't you?!"

"I was worried because the enemy knows about you both! Especially _you_ , Polnareff! You told us that you have been fighting alone, but you have to realize that there are times where you _need_ help in battle! This is one of those times!"

Dios santo _, this isn't the time for-_ His thoughts stopped short when he looked into the air. The bullet had curved again, and was flying straight for- "Mohamed, stop, it's coming straight for you!"

He didn't need to be told twice. "Then I shall burn it to ash," he cried. "Magician's Red!" At the call of his name, the flaming bird burst forth from behind his master. Both were ready to scorch the bullet, and for that moment, they all believed it. Until he let out a pained grunt, that was. Both Joaquín and Jean Pierre turned to see that Mohamed was staggering backwards, his eyes focused on a puddle behind him. Blood was spurting from a sudden wound on his back.

"T-The puddle," he gasped.

And then the bullet made its mark on Mohamed's forehead.

Time slowed for them all. They watched in horror as their friend was thrown off his feet and onto his back. Magician's Red fizzled away into stray embers. The now torn, bloodied bandanna he wore around his head floated down beside the puddle, a cruel metaphor of its wearer's defeat. _This isn't happening_ , thought Joaquín numbly as he watched Noriaki appear from nowhere and kneel beside their fallen comrade. _He's not dead... There's no way he could have been killed... Not like this... Not like this..!_

Hol Horse had spoken up again, but his eyes were still on Mohamed. "God damn, that was scary! I was sure my gun and J. Geil's mirrors were gonna have a tough time with his fire. Out of everyone, Avdol's the only one I was worried about. Man, am I lucky! Looks like that one scary piece in this game of military chess has been eliminated."

Joaquín turned to Jean Pierre, and was about to say something before he noticed how stony his face looked. The Frenchman was staring at him as well, but then spat at the ground before averting his entire gaze. He then muttered the last thing they wanted to hear in this situation. "That's what he gets for his constant preaching. Now look what happened."

Both him and Noriaki were taken aback by this. Their friend had just been murdered, and here he was still acting stubborn over wanting to fight on his own.

"I never asked for anyone's help," Jean Pierre spoke aloud. "This happened all because he likes to come unannounced and meddle in others' affairs. People like him are nothing but a burden. That's why I wanted to come alone."

"How… How dare you," uttered Joaquín, the words sinking in and fueling his growing anger. "He sacrificed his own life to save you, just as I would have done. How can you be so ungrateful, you piece of-" He stopped when he saw Jean Pierre shaking where he stood. Something was dripping at his feet. When he turned to look at them with an anguished look on his face, he knew what it was.

"I'm sick of it," he choked through his tears. "I'm so sick of seeing the people I care about dying because of _me_! I can't stand it!"


	18. Maneater

Ch. 18  
Maneater

DECEMBER 13TH, 1988  
05:30  
CAIRO, EGYPT

"Lord Dio... as we speak, both my son and his partners are currently targeting the Joestar group... However, I wish to discuss a plan we can enact behind their backs. As you are unfortunate to know, we have suffered several consecutive losses. But I'm certain the assassins we've sent have dealt _some_ damage and have not allowed them the pleasure of rest. Right now, they are all surely worrying about their own protection, while their headquarters are completely vulnerable."

"By headquarters, I refer to the Kuujou residence in Japan.

"Holly Kuujou, the daughter of Jonathan's grandson, is currently in the care of that wretched Speedwagon Foundation. However, not a one is a Stand user except her. And she has no control over it. In other words, eliminating that woman, the Joestar family's woman, is possible. Once she's been finished off, we will airlift the body to Cairo so that you may drink her blood. Her's would surely help you adapt to Jonathan's body faster, would it not?

"And with her dead, the Joestars would lose their will to continue on. What do you think, my lord?"

"..."

"I have already dispatched several Stand users there. All I need is your permission, Lord Dio! And the death of Holly Kuujou shall be yours! Please, my lord! Consider this!"

"... Quite the suggestion, Lady Enya. A malicious and crooked scheme that even I, Dio, wouldn't have thought of. It is vexing, but I suppose that's the wisdom of the elderly. You are one step ahead of me. While I may have lived almost a century, you, Lady Enya, have such cunning that you could have lived for far longer. Were you several years younger, I would be honored to bear a child with you."

"My! H-How flattering, my lord! L-Lord Dio knows I only speak the truth!

"However, you must excuse me... I must meditate upon this plan..."

"... Very well, my lord..."

~+JO*JO+~

Mohamed Avdol was not going to get back up.

He had seen it himself. Emperor's bullet had made its impact on his forehead. The blood streaking from the wound to the ground was enough to tell them all he was dead. But Noriaki was too astonished to believe it was true. He was gently shaking their friend, even going as far as to feel his pulse. But it would do him no good. Joaquín knew he would feel nothing. It was too easy. _His life wasn't supposed to end like this_ , he mourned. _Not from some chump's bullet._

His assailant could only smile, having caught and lit his cigarette. "It's a cryin' shame," he spoke through his smoke. "Death can be such an abrupt curtain call. It's almost become the norm to not even say goodbye when you die. Now, it may seem like I'm a know it all, but-"

"Just shut the fuck up," spoke Joaquín in a low, venomous voice. Both he and a teary-eyed Jean Pierre were approaching him, ready to return the favor for his crime. "You… You screwed up… You killed one of our friends… We're not going to forgive you for this. None of us…"

" _Joaquín, Polnareff_ ," cried out Noriaki from behind them. " _Don't let his words get to you! All he's doing is luring you into another trap! I know you're both fighting together, but he still has his partner out there! Your drive to avenge will get you both killed!_ "

"Then what do we do," Jean Pierre said hollowly.

" _Avdol-san went after you both because he was worried you would die. We all were. And look at what happened! You both went into a fight you knew was unwinnable! Neither of you knows what their Stands do! And that lack of knowledge led to his death! It could have been any of you two! Any of the rest of us! We have to retreat now!_ "

"Avdol was cruelly stabbed in the back. My sister… was killed with little effort. And you expect me to hold onto such regret and escape?!"

" _If you know you're going to die, then don't fight! That's what Avdol-san has been trying to say!_ "

They had stopped just within a few feet of Hol Horse. Any closer and he would already be sliced and punched into oblivion. But Joaquín, and hopefully Jean Pierre, knew that their friend had a point. They needed to fall back and form a proper plan, without putting any of their lives at any more risk than they already had. He knew none of them would think of each other any differently if they did.

"Come on, lil' Pol-Pol, Jojo," instigated Hol Horse. "You're almost there! Come a lil' closer!"

Neither of them moved. Noriaki called out again. " _Don't listen to him! Just come back over here, slowly. We can use a truck to get out of here._ "

There was no other choice. They needed to retreat, no matter how much they didn't want to. Silently, their eyes not leaving Hol Horse, they nodded and slowly backed away. They were only several feet backward when a sickening whisper filled their ears.

"Hey… Pol… nareff… Joa… quín…"

"W-What was that," said Joaquín as he wildly looked around. Jean Pierre simply turned to one spot, a flash of recognition in his eyes. Soon, his own followed his friend's line of sight, which was on the window of a store. In its reflection, they could see the puddle beside Mohamed's body begin to stir. A hand rose, then a head, then a body. It looked like a poorly wrapped mummy with stone-like, slate-colored skin, empty yellow eyes, and a hole in his head revealing a robotic brain.

Through a wrapped mouth, the mummy spoke in a sadistic, menacing growl. "He died for you both. You owe him your lives. If it hadn't been for your recklessness, he'd still be among us." As the chuckling creature propped itself, Joaquín noticed that both its black, robotic hands were left hands. Or perhaps they were right hands, seeing as they are mirrored. This mummy wasn't any ordinary monster, but a Stand. J. Geil's Stand, Hanged Man.

When he and his friend turned around, they noticed nothing ominous about the puddle. Nothing had emerged from it at all. But when they turned back to the window, the mummy had stalked up behind them.

" _S-Salaud,_ " swore Jean Pierre, right before rounding on a giggling Hol Horse. "Where the hell is the user! Tell me!"

" _Polnareff, calm down_ ," cried out Noriaki again. The moment they had looked back at the mirror again, the Stand raised its arm. There was a retractable blade under it, extended and ready to attack.

"But don't feel down," crooned Hanged Man sickeningly. "In fact, you should rejoice… You'll be joining them soon enough. Avdol… Sherry… Carlos… You can all be together in the next life."

Hearing his father's name was the last thing Joaquín was expecting to hear from any of Dio's servants. It triggered the memory he was forced to relive back in Singapore of his father's death, and his blood began to boil. "What the hell do you know about my father," he couldn't help but yell.

The mummy chuckled again, and he could almost envision a twisted smile beneath the wraps. "That he picked a fight with the wrong person and died embarrassing himself in front of an audience. Your father was a weak man, but how much so, I couldn't tell you. I wasn't the one who killed him. But I know the man who did. And he's working for Dio."

His blood, which was rising in heat with his anger, soon froze over upon his words. He couldn't believe what he heard. _There's no way_ , he thought dumbfounded. _He can't be working for him! There's no way!_ The wave of unnerving cold soon melted, and the burning anger returned hotter than before. " _¡_ _MENTIROSO!_ _¡ESTÁ MINTIENDO!_ HOW THE FUCK IS HE WORKING FOR HIM?!"

"He just is. But don't get it twisted. He wasn't hired until after that. And he doesn't know that one of the Joestars is that guy's son. When Dio explained it all to me, I just laughed myself silly imagining you dying the same way your poor little daddy did. Embarrassed, crying, and begging."

Joaquín had enough. Preciosa was already out, ready to decimate the mirror. But before he could break it, a familiar scream echoed out from a nearby alleyway. Everyone, including Hol Horse, turned to the direction of the noise. There was no need to wonder who it belonged to. For even in seething rage, Joaquín recognized Della's screams immediately.

Hanged Man hissed in annoyance, "Shit. He was supposed to silence her. Did he really forget to do that first?"

"'Fraid so," muttered Hol Horse, shaking his head in disappointment. "Damn. And here I was hopin' Otis was gonna kill the others discreetly. Guess we were wrong about him."

"Wait…" Joaquín's anger abated slightly when he turned to Noriaki. " _You mean you didn't come with just Mohamed?_ "

" _No, the others came with me_ ," he said apologetically. " _When Avdol-san ran out, we followed after him. We ended up losing him and had to split up. Della wanted to come with us. I'm sorry, Joaquín_."

"Damnit! They shouldn't have come!" He then turned to Jean Pierre, ignoring Hanged Man in the reflection. "You guys need to run! We can deal with these bastards later! I'm gonna go help the others!"

His friend nodded, and Joaquín ran off. Hanged Man was starting to say something, and Hol Horse had called out, "Hey! I ain't through with you, boy!" But he ignored them both. There were more pressing matters to attend to. The rest of the group, his family and his girlfriend, had just run into a _third_ Stand user while they were looking for him. There was no time to be feeling guilty for putting them in danger. He needed to save them.

When he entered the alley and turned a corner into the next, he came upon a chilling sight. Hanging between the buildings and homes was a massive web. The strands were everywhere, haphazardly stuck without much thought and intertwining into a thick, white net. Even the ground was covered in webbing. What made the whole scene worse was that several people, including his grandfather, were trapped in the net, their bodies and mouths covered in the threads.

In the middle of the web, there as a hunched figure wearing a very furry grey jacket that matched his hair weaving a cocoon for his next victim. It was clearly Della, the bushy hair tangled and caught in the webbing around her being a giveaway. She was struggling to break free, growling and cursing at the man who trapped her. "Let me go, you freak," she spat. "The longer you keep me here, the harder your ass is gonna get kicked! You'll see!"

The man, who Hol Horse had called Otis, was chuckling as he took his time tying her. "And who's going to do it? Joutarou? His idiot brother you were chasing after? They can try, but I doubt they can do anything to me." His voice was laced with a husky venom that made him feel sick to his stomach. "I'll trap them here, together with you, and drain them of all their blood. I promised Dio half of it all to drink. The rest? It's all mine to soak my hair in."

 _Oh god, this guy's insane_ , thought Joaquín uncomfortably. _This bloodlust is…_ inhuman _. It's like he's a vampire, like Dio… But, if he was, he'd be dead in the sunlight. God, to think someone like him was hired to kill us._

" _Niisan._ "

The whisper broke his train of thought. It belonged to Joutarou, who had caught up beside him. He looked just as unnerved as his brother, but also ready to fight. " _Joutarou_ ," he whispered back. " _What happened? I heard all of you went looking for us._ "

" _We did. You have quite the girlfriend, Joaquín. She cares about you a lot. And when you and Avdol left, she didn't hesitate to let us know. We had to split up to find you. Where's everyone else? Where's Avdol?_ "

His heart grew heavy knowing he would have to deliver the horrible news. He wasn't ready for this yet. Taking a deep breath, he solemnly whispered, " _Mohamed… has been shot. He's dead. There was another Stand user with Hanged Man. He died saving us…_ "

"I can hear you, you know," exclaimed Otis, pausing in his work. "I may not speak slope, but I heard Mohamed in there. So tell me, what happened to him? Is he dead?" And then his head turned around completely to smile and bear his fangs down at the brothers. "Cause I sure hope so!" His entire face was covered in thick waves of dark grey. Everywhere from his forehead to his nose. It then became clear that he wasn't wearing a coat at all.

Otis laughed as the rest of his body twisted around like a toy. "Hello, boys! Welcome to the nest! Please, by all means, make yourselves comfortable. After all, I do have a line of fresh little morsels before you all came. So just be good little Joestars and get in the web. You wouldn't want me to use force, do you?"

"You won't have to. Because my brother and I are gonna do it for you!" And without hesitation, both Preciosa and Star Platinum made their presence known. Otis smiled widely and laughed before bounding off the web and onto one of the web-coated building walls. Preciosa's arm swelled up with oil before slinging a wave of it, infused with _hamon_ , straight at him. He avoided it with another leap, letting the oil melt his former perch.

Eyes locked back on the man in mid-flight, he noticed he had spat out something thick and white from his mouth. A string of webbing, just like any other spider could produce. Joaquín had sidestepped and grabbed it as it was still in his attacker's mouth. When he yanked as hard as he could, Otis did not come flying in his direction. The rest of the web did, and it spread and covered him in very sticky silk. He tried to wipe it off, but he was finding himself getting stuck to his own body.

" _Maldita sea_ , he _wanted_ me to do that," growled Joaquín, his arms stuck to his chest as if he were holding himself. If he tried to use his Stand, then he would only end up stuck as well. "Joutarou, don't touch me, you're only gonna get stuck too!"

His brother seemed to have thought ahead, as Star Platinum had picked up a nearby rock and threw it with the strength to destroy someone's skull. Otis, who had landed back in the massive web, spat a glob of it in retaliation. It caught the rock and slowed it down enough for him to catch. "Nice try, you bush league bitch," jeered Otis. "Go back home and practice a bit more. Or better yet, throw some more! I bet you none of them are gonna hit me."

"Don't do it, Joutarou," cried out Della. "He's only baiting you!"

"Will you shut up, you bitch? Geez, I'm lucky Dio warned me about the _hamon_ users in your group. Speaking of which..." Without warning, Otis had already shot a small bit of web to completely cover Joaquín's mouth and nose. He couldn't breathe properly, and he could not get it off even if his hands were free. Preciosa slowly faded away. "Yeah, I'm not taking any chances whatsoever. _Hamon_ is the only thing that can break apart my Stand's webs. And since I got both you and your grandfather, my victory is guaranteed."

Otis turned back to Della and resumed tying her up, continuing to speak unconcernedly to the others. "You know something, being born the way I was, I was instantly labeled a freak. My hair literally made me look like Chewbacca from _Star Wars_. I was bullied for it on a daily basis. Even my parents made jokes at my expense. They were ashamed of me, and they were vocal about it. They had every right to. How often do you see a guy like me in your lifetime? Never.

"But you wanna know something? I liked being me. I liked being special. I had something no normal man has. Even moreso nowadays. And I didn't let anyone stop me from enjoying that feeling. Not even my parents. I didn't kill them, but I did run away from them and joined a traveling circus. And it was there where I became recognized as a true freak. I was called 'The Woolly Bear'. I was both the hairy man and the living noodle rolled up into one amazing performer."

To emphasize this, Otis twisted his body in such a complex manner that it almost looked impossible. His arms knotted together on his chest as he bent back and coiled like a spring. He gave the brothers a brief smile before uncoiling himself "A natural gift, honed over time through intense training. The crowd loved me. Until eventually, my feats became boring. That was when I became re-branded as something more sinister. Something that would knock the socks off little kids. A vampire."

Otis slowly climbed his way to one of the innocent bystanders that he caught. The captive's eyes found his, and began to writhe in desperation for freedom. "As 'The Maneater', I was fed animal's blood. And wouldn't you know, I actually enjoyed it. It was harmless at first, but as time dragged on, I began to crave blood. I tried to sate my thirst by drinking the blood of our captive animals, but that didn't work. I wasn't satisfied until one night, out of curiosity, I snuck into one of my co-worker's quarters."

He had reached his prey. It wasn't clear what he did, given that his back was towards them all. But whatever it was, it caused a brief spurt of blood on the victim. And then came the sickening sound of slurping. Joaquín couldn't help but look on with wide eyes. Beside him, his brother was rooted to the spot, a mixture of anger and fear in his eyes. _Is this how we're gonna die_ , he thought fearfully. _Having our blood literally drank from us while we're alive?_

His victim went limp, and having had his fill, Otis turned back to them. What they saw was so horrifying that, were his mouth not covered, Joaquín would have screamed. Peeking out through the man's fanged, open mouth was a spider's head, mechanical and black with eight unblinking yellow eyes. Its pedipalps twitched hungrily and it mandibles clicked unnervingly. A lone string hung between them, connected to a hole in the sack right where the neck would be.

"This is the guy that helped me do it," he said even with his mouth open. "I named him after myself, Maneater. And as you can all see, it has the ability to form some of the strongest web known to man. Nothing but extreme heat can break it. Anyway, I killed the other performers that night. Left behind a nice nest for the authorities. And the best part is that I was never caught. I've managed to keep up the killings even to this day. All for the sake of a nice, bloody meal."

"You won't be getting ours," mumbled Della.

"Excuse me?"

"I didn't stutter. You won't be getting ours."

Otis chuckled and moved back to her side, Maneater retreating back inside his mouth. "Oh, I beg to differ. You're stuck. Joestar is stuck. Hell, even little Joutarou over there, who doesn't have a single strand of my webbing on him, is stuck! And if they survive their battle, the rest of your friends will be, too! I told you, my Stand's webbing is the strongest there is! Everyone I've caught throughout the years has never escaped! They've all become my next meal! And today, so shall you!"

Della moved her head to him the best she could, not even flinching as her hair was being pulled taut between scalp and web. Her glare was a fiery one, and her voice was both low and confident. "You won't win. We've all landed in worse traps than this, and we've escaped every one. Every last one of Dio's cronies that have gone after us has failed. No matter how dire the situation, none of us have given up hope. There is always a means to prevail. Your little nest is nothing, you monster."

And then she spat straight into his face.

There was a heavy silence. Those who were not blinded watched mesmerized at the scene, Otis wiping the spit off his brow. He was angry, and everyone around him could feel the mounting fury. Then, without hesitating, he punched straight into Della's stomach. And it wasn't a simple punch. It almost looked as if his fist was disappearing behind her ribs. When he pulled out, Della was left coughing uncontrollably.

" _Y-You bastard_ ," muttered Joutarou, as his older brother let out a furious, muffled scream. He didn't bother running, instead struggling hard to break loose of the web that bound his arms to his body. Seeing Della harmed triggered something within his brain that tuned out all other rational thought. All he cared about was breaking free and lunging at the man. Tearing him apart. Killing him in cold blood. He would pay for his crime of hurting his beloved.

"It serves her right for calling me a monster," he shouted into the alley at them. "I may be a freak, an abnormality to nature, but I _am_ a human! And I deserve to be respected as such, whether I drink blood or not! You fucking pricks! To hell with splitting the blood with Dio! You're not worthy enough to be drunk by him! I'm going to do the honors of sucking you all dry! And I'll make you all suffer!"

During his outburst, Della continued to choke and cough. She was doing everything in her power to breathe, having had what Joaquín was certain to be pretty much all of her breath forced out of her lungs. It looked too painful, judging by the tears forming in her eyes. But once Otis finished shouting, her breathing slowly calmed down. She took one deep breath, in and out. And in that one breath, the most shocking thing happened before their very eyes.

Her body sparked.

"W-What the?" Otis looked very confused, as if he had just hallucinated. When Della, who looked just as confused about all this, steadied her breathing and released more sparks, he backed away in fear. "Y-You're a… a _hamon_ user too," he shouted. "Dio never told me there were three! I wasn't prepared for this!"

Nobody was. And yet they all worked together as if they were. Joaquín ran straight into the web and jumped back first, attaching himself beside his girlfriend's outstretched hand. Joutarou had picked up several rocks and threw them at the distracted Otis, who was too shocked to even avoid having them hit his head and disorient him. Meanwhile, Della grabbed ahold of the webs as much as she could and focused on her new-found power.

Her breathing steadied. The sparks surrounding her slowly grew, though not with the same intensity as her boyfriend's. They were still strong enough to weaken the bindings that held them all. Slowly and steadily, the captive Indians dropped to the ground and ran, and Otis hung beside her quaking in fear and anger. "No, no, NO," he screamed, right before Maneater crawled out, ready to fire again. But something purple and thorny wrapped around his mouth to stop him. Joseph and Hermit Purple had been freed.

Joaquín, Della, and Joseph soon landed safely on the ground as Otis was tossed down at their feet. He propped himself on his arms and turned to look at them with blazing eyes. The hair on his body seemed to bristle the way an animal would. "T-That's not fair," he growled through his Stand. "Three _hamon_ users… How the hell are you one, you bitch? The only ones who should even have that are the Joestars…"

"I-I don't know," said Della, her voice high and surprised. "I-I wasn't born with any _hamon_! I never knew about this!"

"We'll deal with that in a moment," said Joaquín, patting her shoulder before looking down on their attacker. "Right now, I wanna deal with you. See, I bumped into your partners earlier, as you're already aware. And they made a grave mistake in killing one of our own. On top of that, I just found out that my father's killer is working for Dio. And on top of _that_ , you decided to put my family and innocent bystanders in danger. So naturally, Preciosa and I are extremely pissed off."

"Someone died," Della gasped. "I-I heard Avdol's name earlier… Did he…"

"Yes." His answer made her clasp her hands over her mouth and Joseph quake in disbelief. It pained him to have to be the bearer of bad news, but he couldn't keep it from them. "And that's exactly why I'm pissed. He died to save us. Jean Pierre and I both tried to take on a Stand user we knew nothing about. It was all our fault. I can never forgive myself for allowing one of my own friends to get killed… but more importantly, I can never forgive those who led to their deaths."

He slowly approached the prone Stand user before them, who sat up and slowly backed away. "O-Okay, I-I get it," stuttered Otis nervously. "You're all pissy about losing your pal. I would be t-too! But keep in mind, I didn't k-kill him. Avdol's death was caused by… er, who was it?" When Joaquín's next step turned into a stomp, he yelped and pulled himself back more. "Okay, okay! It doesn't matter! But like I said, I didn't do it! You should be taking your frustrations out on him, not me!"

"But he's not here, is he?" Otis backed up far enough to bump into Joutarou's legs. He looked back for one fleeting, frightened moment before turning back to the three approaching him. "No. And don't act like you're innocent. You've done enough to get on all of our shit lists. And I'm pretty sure you can guess what happens to those who're on it, right?"

Before Otis could say anything else, Hermit Purple's thorns wrapped around his body again and held him in place. Both Preciosa and Star Platinum began to punch every inch of him, filling the alley with the sounds of fists on flesh and the mixed roars of " _¡_ _TOMATOMATOMA!_ " and " _ORAORAORA!_ " After a few seconds, Joseph let go, and the brothers punched the crumpled, hairy mess straight through the sky beyond their own sight.

"That's one problem dealt with," said Joaquín, right before turning to Della and hugging her. "You saved all of our skins today. I can't possibly thank you enough."

His blushing girlfriend returned the hug and chuckled. "I didn't know I had it in me. I mean, A Stand is one thing, but… I have the same thing you and Mr. Joestar have!" She let go of him and focused her breathing again. The sparks that enveloped her were small and brief, nowhere near as intense as earlier. "It's so crazy. I think whatever that Otis guy did must have triggered something inside me."

"What exactly did he do," asked Joseph.

"He just punched me in the stomach. I think he might have pushed on my diaphragm, cause all the air in me was just pushed out."

Joseph rubbed his chin thoughtfully before speaking again. "You know, this lines up with something both uncle Speedwagon and my grandmother Erina once told me. When she and Jonathan were in the countryside, they met Caesar's grandfather William. He did the exact same thing to him and unlocked his potential to use _hamon_ , just like that. Only he used his pinkie, if I remember correctly… Either way, you seem to have acquired it just like he did."

Della looked back at her hands and smiled. But her happiness was brief, for sadness took its place. "I should be happy, but… We just lost one of our own. Mr. Avdol's dead."

The reminder of Mohamed's untimely end wiped away the last few minutes of the alley battle. "He is. Like I told Joutarou, he was shot by one of the other Stand users. He had been stabbed in the back… I think it was by J. Geil. But it was Hol Horse who landed the final blow…

"Didn't you say you found out about your father's killer, too?"

"Yeah. One of them told me he works for Dio. But he doesn't know _I'm_ Joaquín Trejo. And he wasn't working for Dio at all at that time. Trust me, I'm furious about that, but… right now, Mohamed's more important… We need to go back for him and give him a burial… It's the least we could do."

With everyone agreeing, he led them all out of the alley and back into the long-since deserted street. There was not a soul in sight, though thankfully, the prone body of their fallen comrade was still there. He was exactly where he had been left, his face covered in blood and his torn headband resting beside him and the puddle that sealed his fate. They slowly approached him, as if afraid they would wake him up. But Joaquín knew nothing could bring him back.

"It's n-not fair," muttered Della, holding back a sob. "He was a g-good person, even when we f-first met him in N-New York… God, why did he have to be taken..?"

"That's simply how life works," said Joseph as he approached and knelt beside his friend. He too sounded choked up, but he was more composed than her. Clearing his throat, he reached over to the headband and dipped it into the puddle before wiping his friends face clean. "We have to make the best of the time we have with our friends and family. Never take those relationships for granted, because you never know when they'll-"

He had stopped cleaning him, eyes widening and trained on Mohamed's face. "W-What's going on, _Abuelito_ ," asked his eldest grandson worriedly.

"Come over here! Everyone! You need to see this!"

The youths knelt around Mohamed, whose forehead Joseph had pointed to. "The wound," he whispered. "Look closer…" They did so. It looked clean, all the blood was wiped away. All that remained was broken skin and exposed muscle tissue. But there were no signs that a bullet had pierced through. In fact, when Joaquín lifted his head and looked at the back of it, there was no exit wound. Which meant…

"The bullet just scratched him," he exclaimed with shock.

"Exactly! He must have moved at the last second! It must have had just enough strength to incapacitate him, but not kill him!"

"Which means Mohamed's alive!" And without warning, he tackled Della into another hug, coupled with a deep kiss. He felt absolute relief wash over him knowing that their comrade had survived the encounter. When he broke the kiss, he laughed and kicked his legs back and forth in a little jig. "He's alive, he's alive, he's alive! Oh man, this is great!"

" _Yare yare daze_ ," muttered Joutarou, covering his eyes with his cap. "This actually is good news. But now that we know he's alive, what're we going to do with him?"

Joseph thought for a moment before speaking. "I have an idea. It's a bit tricky, but it plays well into what I discussed the other day. Straight through Pakistan, sail to Saudi Arabia, then through the Red Sea, and we've reached the home stretch. But, we have to be inconspicuous. Avdol and I talked it out, and we agreed to order ourselves a submarine."

"A submarine," asked Della quizzically.

"Yes, to pass through the Red Sea undetected. Avdol can help us do it. But we need to do it discreetly. We can't let Dio's men discover that he's alive, otherwise they'd target him. He can recover here until he's awake, then we can send him to where we need to go in order to set the plan in motion." He stood up and helped Mohamed onto his back. "Let's find some transportation to a hospital, and quickly. The sooner we get him patched up, the better."

It didn't take long for them to find someone willing to take them all. The driver was more than happy to help, given that he was paid for his service. Within minutes, they had admitted Mohamed, who the doctors immediately began looking over. His pulse and breathing were irregular, but they were all reassured that he would make a full recovery. They soon bid their farewells, promising the sleeping fortune-teller that they will meet again.

Not long after they were brought back to the empty market, they heard distant gunshots, along with the loud calls of, "C'mon, J. Geil! Where are you?! I got 'em all ready for you!"

" _Is that him_ ," whispered Joutarou as the group silently snuck into a nearby alley.

" _Yeah_ ," Joaquín whispered back. His blood wasn't as heated as earlier, but he still felt hatred for the man who attacked them. " _That's Hol Horse. He was working together with Sherry Polnareff's killer._ " And then he smiled, knowing that there was only one reason he would be calling out for his partner. " _I think Jean Pierre finally got his revenge._ "

"You think he actually survived, Jojo," asked Della. As if on cue, a stream of annoyed French filled the air. "Never mind. Looks like he did."

It took a minute before the sound of frantic running rose in volume towards them. There were three sets of footsteps, one more desperate than the others. It was almost easy to discern who those belonged to, and Joaquín's was ready to knock them off the ground. Soon, a figure skidded into the alley, and his fist immediately flew into his face. Hol Horse was knocked away as he and the others stepped out from hiding. He looked up to see him and gasped, "Y-You! You survived!"

"We did," confirmed Joaquín as he cracked his knuckles. "Your friend Otis was the perfect target practice for when I saw you again."

" _Everyone! You're okay!_ " It was Noriaki who exclaimed his relief for their safety. Beside him was a cut-up, bloodied Jean Pierre. Despite the tiredness and anger in his expression, there was an air of accomplishment about him. He _did_ win.

"We already know about Avdol," Joseph gravely spoke as they all began to surround Hol Horse. "We buried his body, although it was a crude funeral."

"J. Geil may have been the one to stab him in the back," Joaquín began, "but it was your Emperor that killed Mohamed. A simple bullet that could have been burned to ashes. So..." He looked around at the others, each not looking away from their enemy. "Has the jury reached its verdict?"

Jean Pierre nodded as Silver Chariot came forth and took aim with his rapier. "I find him guilty of all charges. His sentence: the death penalty!" And just as he was about to deliver the killing blow, someone had lunged straight into his leg. It was a young Indian girl who held him in place, wearing an elaborate purple dress with a matching hood-like veil. She had appeared out of nowhere, shocking the entire group.

"Please run, Hol Horse, my love," she pleaded desperately, Jean Pierre swearing and struggling in place. "I may not understand the circumstances, but I am always thinking about what's best for you! You are my reason to live! Please, run! Hurry!"

" _Oye_ , what the hell are you thinking," scolded Joaquín as he tried to pull the infatuated girl off of his friend. Try as he might, her hold was too strong. "Shit! Joutarou, Noriaki, get him before-"

It was already too late. The sudden appearance of the girl had distracted them long enough for Hol Horse to move out of the throng and disappear. It didn't take long for him to trot back into view upon a horse, his grin dripping with smugness."Thank you kindly, baby," he called out to the girl. "I humbly accept your love towards me and live to fight another day! So don't think of me runnin' away as cowardice, baby! I do it out of my feelin's towards you! I love you, baby! Forever!"

And so Hol Horse galloped off, the group absolutely dumbfounded that he was able to escape them. Jean Pierre was the only one who made an effort to try to go after him, still held back by the girl he dragged along. A pained whimper from her was enough to make him snap at her. "What are you complaining about, _petite chienne_?! You let him get away!"

"Let her be, Polnareff," consoled Joseph, the girl nursing her now bleeding elbow. "She was simply being used by him. Besides, it was obvious he had no intention to fight us. He didn't attack when he had the chance, and we can't go after him now." He took tore off some of his undershirt and helped bind the girl's nasty scrape. "Besides, we don't have time to deal with that lunatic anymore. Avdol is gone… And we have to keep moving. It's already been fifteen days since we departed from Japan."

"He's right," said Joaquín as he patted his friend's shoulder. "Mohamed wouldn't want us to just mope around like this. He'd want us to keep going. All of us, even if we don't like it, are prepared to put our lives on the line to hunt down Dio and end him. He knew this. And you know this. That's why he risked his own life for you, not to show you the dangers of fighting alone, but because he cared about you. And me."

The Frenchman looked at him with tired eyes and a melancholic, bloody face. It was hard to tell if his words went through to him. After everything they went through today, it didn't matter too much if it did. _He only came for J. Geil_ , he recalled him mentioning the other day. _Dio was never his concern. It's ultimately his choice as to what he wants to do at this point._

He walked past them, wiping off the blood on his face as he did. For a moment, Joaquín was certain he was leaving them. But he soon stopped, turning back to them with a fierce and determined expression on his face. "You know what, Joaquín? You're right. And so was Avdol. My actions were conceited. I went into battle alone, knowing that all of you would have done what he did in his stead… And as a result of taking his words and assistance for granted, he paid the price…

"No longer… Too many of my mistakes have cost me friendships, and I'll be damned if anyone else pays for them! I will no longer fight alone as I have my entire life! From this moment on, I will work together with you all! My strength is yours! "He raised his clenched fist to emphasize the seriousness of his words. "And as is my life! I swear to you all, we will find Dio and make him pay for his countless crimes! Together!"

They all smiled, but none were brighter than Joaquín's. For if anyone's faith and trust in him had been strengthened, it was his.

And he would continue to trust Jean Pierre Polnareff until the day he died.

~MOHAMED AVDOL: INCAPACITATED~

~OTIS: RETIRED~

~J. GEIL (1941-1988): RIP~

* * *

STAND TIME

STAND USER: Otis (オーティス)

STAND NAME: Maneater (人食い(マンイーター))

POWER: E, SPEED: C, RANGE: E, DURABILITY: D, PRECISION: B, POTENTIAL: D

ABILITY: Maneater is a Stand bound only to the mouth of his user. Its ability is a simple one: spitting webs from his mouth. It is multipurpose, being used to form massive nests, traps, ropes, and even simple balls to ensnare his prey. The webs are made of stronger fibers than that of the Darwin's bark spider and are more adhesive. If something ends up stuck, it had no chance of breaking free (Otis is exempt from this). Only extreme heat, fire, and _hamon_ can break apart the web, which can temporarily be used as a conductor. Despite the spider-like ability, Otis cannot cling to walls, needing to rely on his webs to hang from his perches.


	19. Far Away Eyes

Ch. 19  
Far Away Eyes

DECEMBER 15TH, 1988  
09:28  
BENARES, INDIA

Back when she was little, Della Brown had always loved riding buses. There was just something more special about being in a larger vehicle than a car. Because not only was she able to take in more of her passing surroundings due to the slower pace, but she also got to meet some rather interesting people. The city was filled with such interesting, colorful people, from sharply-dressed businessmen to scruffy vagabonds. It was a refreshing experience each and every time.

So when the group had decided to get a bus to travel to the holy city of Benares (also called Varanasi), she couldn't help but feel giddy excitement in her heart. Despite all that happened in Calcutta, she felt that a slow ride across the country to such a renowned city would be quite fun. And who better to spend it with than a group of some of the most interesting people she had ever known?

They had been traveling since yesterday, having stopped halfway for a good night's rest before continuing. Before they left that day, they took some time to nurse their wounds and check up on Mr. Avdol one more time. He was still unconscious, but his vital signs had mercifully returned to normal. "He should be awake by tomorrow," said Mr. Joestar hopefully. "He may have to undergo therapy for a while, but by then, we should be ready with the submarine. Let's not tell the others just yet. Keep it a surprise for now."

And she, Jojo and Joutarou kept their word. Noriaki and Jean Pierre were not told of Mr. Avdol's survival yet. Della suggested they tell them separately later when they rest up at their hotels, to which they all agreed upon. For the time being, they would travel through the rocky, rustic countryside that was India. And it was indeed a fun ride. They all spoke merrily to one another about their lives and even traded jokes with the passengers who rode along with them. It was a peaceful little ride.

Right now, they were about an hour away from their final stop. She, Jojo and the others were now the only ones on the bus, and it was quiet, save for the conversation Jean Pierre was holding.

"Listen," said Jean Pierre sternly behind him. "I'm not usually one to give sermons, so I'll make it simple. Dimwits can never understand anything even ifs you try explaining it because they're dimwits. No matter how many times you explain it, they never understand." His expression immediately softened. "But, er… you didn't tell me your name."

The girl looked up and uttered, "Nena." It was the girl who had so foolishly allowed Mr. Avdol's attacker to escape. As it turned out, she was from a respectable family in Benares, and had run away from home to elope with Hol Horse. At only 16 years old, this girl was old enough to marry, but only through an arrangement. This was why she ran, because she devoted her young and naive heart to a manipulative assassin. She would die for him, as she had proved yesterday. And it disgusted her.

 _I don't care who takes pity on her_ , she thought callously. _She'll get no sympathy from me. She doesn't deserve it after the stunt she pulled._

"Okay, Nena. I know you're a smart girl. You come from an honest family. I have an eye for people like you." She couldn't believe he had the nerve to flirt with this girl. "So I'm going to preach this to you. Hol Horse, your so-called 'true love' is a horrible liar and a complete bastard. He deceived you. Our friend died because he was paid by a wicked man to hunt us down. He never cared about you, only money. And your parents are probably grieving that you ran off with him."

There was a cold silence. Sitting in the row beside them, Della could see Nena's uncaring, almost condescending glance. The kind that could make words crumble before they had a chance of reaching her. It simply made Della furious, and she stood up from her seat and raised her hand to smack her upside the head. But a gentle touch by and a shake of the head by Jojo sitting beside her stopped her from striking out.

"She's not worth it," he sighed. "Trust me, I don't like her any more than you do. But hitting her's not gonna solve anything. Just relax. Focus on something else."

"Right," she whispered, taking her seat and steadying her erratic and angry breathing. She was glad to have a boyfriend who knew just what to do and say to help calm her. But despite this, she silently vowed to get one good hit in on this girl.

Jean Pierre was now gesticulating with his hands, moving them forward from the sides of his face. A gesture that expressed Nena's narrow train of thought. "You can't keep doing _this_ ," he warned her. "It's easy to do that when you're in love, but you can't look at things like that. It's important to keep your field of vision broad and your mind calm, understand?"

 _Don't waste your breath, Jean Pierre_ , thought Della as she stifled a giggle. _Besides, the last person who should be giving that advice is you._ It was both admirable and funny, even if he _was_ giving it to a snob such as Nena.

" _Hey_ ," called Noriaki, staring out the window in amazement. " _These guys are incredible…_ "

When the group had looked out the windows, they saw exactly what it was that left the student in awe. Right beside the great Ganges river, right across from the city, were men undergoing the most rigorous of training. One man had his head buried into the ground. Some others had buried their bodies, their faces covered in acupuncture needles. And all of them, whether they were on a bed of nails, on a burning pan, or contorted in complex poses, were in a state of deep meditation and concentration.

" _They're practitioners of ascetics_ ," he went on to say. " _It looks rough. I've only heard stories about this, but I never thought these people would actually do it._ "

"Are you sure it's not some trick to attract tourists," joked Jean Pierre.

"If it were, it'd be a great disrespect for the dead," reasoned Jojo, his brow furrowed. "Everyone look to the far-most left." Their eyes followed where he was pointing, and what Della saw made her gasp. Several people, far more dressed than the meditating men, were gathered around a small wooden structure engulfed in fire. Resting at the top, just barely visible in the flames, was a body. It was a cremation, and those gathered were paying their final respects. A peaceful, yet mournful sight.

The holy river seemed to give off the same feeling. Like the fires burning both body and wood, the river consumed everything. People of all ages, animals of all species, food, excrement, everything. They were all microcosm of the Ganges, blanketed gently within the blessed waters. Just looking at the river and the people wading on the banks filled Della with a sense of calm.

Her train of thought was broken when she heard Joutarou say, "Hey, _jijii_ , you don't look too good. You okay?" They had been sitting two seats behind Mr. Joestar and his youngest grandson, and from where she sat, she could see that the old man looked rather pale.

"Joutarou's right, _Abuelito_ ," Jojo agreed. "You look like you came down with something. That bastard Otis didn't make you sick, did he?"

He shook his head and rubbed his arm. "No, not that I can tell," he grumbled. "It's my arm. Whatever bit me must have had some disease. My arm feels so infected. Look." He held out his right arm for them to see. Sitting on his forearm was a reddish infection, swollen and angry. It looked almost like a tumor, which greatly worried her.

"Mr. Joestar," said Della concernedly. "You said you felt like you were bitten the other day."

"Yes, I did."

"Are you sure that guy didn't bite you or anything?"

"No, I'm _certain"_ he said indignantly. "All he did was muffle me and drag me off into his web. No bites or anything. I started feeling it after that other Stand user escaped. Probably some mosquito bit me. Calcutta was full of them."

It was common knowledge that mosquitoes, no matter where in the world they were, were hosts to some of the deadliest diseases. And if Mr. Joestar really was bitten by one… She shook the thought out of her head and said, "Mr. Joestar, you need to go see a doctor before that gets worse. Let the rest of us handle getting our hotel rooms, you go find a hospital and get that checked."

Jean Pierre looked at it for a moment and snickered. "Hey, if you look at it from an angle, it almost looks like a face." As Joseph voiced his offense to the joke, Della noted that he wasn't kidding. Looking closer, she could make out the faint outline of eyes, a nose, and a curved, ghoulish mouth. It was as if whatever infected him was mocking him.

Mocking all of them.

The bus eventually came to a stop, and the group split from there. While Della, Noriaki, and the Joestar brothers went to order their rooms at The Clarks ("A gorgeous hotel," according to Joseph), Jean Pierre would be accompanying Joseph to a doctor to check out the infection. At the insistence of the Frenchman, Nena was convinced to join him. She still couldn't understand what he sees in her. This _was_ a different country with different laws, after all.

At the hotel, the four quickly came to an agreement on how many rooms should be ordered. "Three," Jojo told the concierge before turning to the others. "I'm not letting that girl stay with us. I don't care what _Abuelito_ or Jean Pierre says. This is a whole different situation than with Anne."

" _I agree_ ," Joutarou said with a nod. " _That bitch has a family here, she can go back to them._ "

" _So you're pissed off at her too_ ," asked Della as Jojo paid for their rooms.

" _Yeah. I'd rather deal with a bratty runaway than this snob._ "

" _Do you think they'll try to argue about it_ ," asked Noriaki.

" _If they do, then Della's gonna kick her ass._ " The group grabbed their keys and belongings before heading off to their rooms. " _You should have seen how angry she got when they suggested bringing her along for the ride rather than leave her to find her own way back. If it wasn't for Joaquín, she'd be a bloody pulp by now._ "

Della idly twirled the key in her fingers, not looking at any of them. "I can't help but feel angry. She was an accomplice, manipulated or not. To know that Mr. Avdol's attacker, a servant of the madman we swore to hunt down, has escaped thanks to her is just so… aggravating. She _will_ pay. Somehow, I'll make sure she does."

Jojo simply put his hand on her shoulder and gave her a knowing smile. "It's okay. My _abuelita_ always said that karma always finds and punishes those who deserve it. It'll take time, but she'll get what's coming to her. Now, let's put that out of our minds. Let's all get acquainted with those beds." The youths agreed and split off to their room when they reached the hall. Della and Jojo both entered their own and set their bags down right by their large bed.

As she sat down, she looked up at her boyfriend and asked him, "So, you think we really should tell Noriaki?"

"About Mohamed," he asked back as he stretched. "Absolutely. He's got the right to know. But… to be honest, I think we should stay quiet about it around Jean Pierre."

"Really?"

"I trust him and everything, but I won't lie when I say he's… _Es un bocaza_."

"Huh?"

"It means he talks too much." Jojo took a seat beside her, a hand running through his messy hair. "Sure, he can put up a fight, but he's the kind of guy who boasts. Imagine if he bumped into another one of those assassins and blabs about Mohamed. What if they escape? Dio will know exactly what's going on and send someone to wherever he is and just kill him. And we can't have that."

She nodded in agreement. "So we just keep him in the dark, then?"

"We're gonna have to," he answered, not at all comfortable with having to keep lying. "It's the only way we can keep Mohamed safe for now. We'll tell him when the time comes. For now, let's keep his survival to ourselves." He gave her a quick kiss, which she reciprocated, before standing to his feet. "I'll be back in a few minutes. Don't get too bored."

"I won't." And with one last kiss, Jojo left the room, leaving her to her thoughts. They didn't dwell upon Mohamed, but on the bizarre adventure she had been having thus far. It was an incredible journey, one where she got to visit foreign lands, meet intriguing (and often dangerous) people, and become witness to the most mind-blowing battles. All of this as she tagged along with the most peculiar group of men gifted with innate, spiritual powers.

 _Powers I'm certain I have as well._

The reminder of her still-dormant Stand brought to mind her new-found ability she shared with the Joestar men. The power of _hamon_ , the power to utilize the sun's energy from within herself. Sure, it was just as jarring to know she had this ability, but that feeling was replaced with something more powerful. Something almost foreign to her. Confidence.

Before that day, when Della was stuck within the inescapable web of Maneater, she felt a great burden being in their group. She had been of little help, despite their incessant protests that she was the exact opposite. It filled her with guilt. But when she grabbed that web and freed them all, she realized there and then that she was no longer a burden. Her guilt washed away, and in its place lied confidence. The confidence to not shy away from a fight, but to plunge headlong into it.

The confidence to finally help her friends.

"I won't let you down," she said aloud in the emptiness of her room. "That's a promise."

But if she wanted to keep that promise better, she would have to hone her _hamon_. The concept seemed as simple as it was complex. And Della figured that if Jojo and Mr. Joestar could do it, then so can she. But before she can go and practice, she had to figure out where she can go to do it. _It's gotta be somewhere outside with enough space for me to focus. Somewhere I can practice peacefully without having to worry about interruptions._

The only place she could think of was the Ganges, where she had seen those men training undisturbed in passing. It looked like the perfect place for her to become one with her power. But then again, that was farther than the hotel, and she wasn't up for making a long trip to and from. There was, however, a river that connected to the Ganges. She remembered seeing it on a map on the bus ride over. Perhaps she can get that peaceful experience there instead. _Yeah... I'm pretty sure I can.._.

With her mind made up, Della stood up from her bed and wrote a quick note for Jojo before she left. He would understand where she went, and it wouldn't be long before he would go look for her. She knew he would probably try to teach her. Just the thought made her excited.

As she exited the hotel, she couldn't help but notice something peculiar on her way out. Standing tall and proud by the doors was a life-sized marble statue. It depicted a scene of a minotaur, a beast with the legs and head of a bovine, standing victorious upon an armored warrior. The statue looked very well-crafted, its beauty almost comparable to David. But as she marveled at its excellence, something in the back of her mind snapped her out of her trance.

 _This statue wasn't here before._

She had seen nobody on the way to the hotel prepare to put anything like this at the entrance. There were no signs of any work. And it certainly would not take as long as it did to order their rooms and settle in. It was far too out of the ordinary to brush off as normal. And with that though, only one thing came to mind: someone had sent a Stand. She would have touched the statue to prove it, but the last time she did that nearly killed her.

 _Just walk away_ , she thought as she turned around and did exactly that. _Pretend like you're not suspicious and maybe, just maybe, it'll just be a normal statue._

It was as if someone heard her and decided to prove her wrong. Without looking behind her, she could hear the statue shaking, pieces of rock breaking off from it. Her steps slowly grew quicker, as did the rate of the shaking. All of a sudden, there was an explosion of stone and the heavy footfalls of hooves headed straight for her. She didn't need to look behind her to see what was chasing her. Della already knew, and she ran as fast as her boots could take her.

The river was out of the question now. She needed to lose the Stand chasing after her and find someone who could fight it. _Hamon_ can only do so much, but without a Stand of her own, she was powerless. _Jean Pierre or Mr. Joestar_ , she thought frantically as she ran down the street as fast as she could. _I have to find them. They're the only ones that can help. Jojo and the others… They won't know I'm in trouble before it's too late._

"You can run all you like, Brown" cried out the minotaur in an unusually feminine voice. "But there's no escape from Far Away Eyes!"

"G-Get away from me," Della cried back as she made her way to the bazaar just south of the hotel. _Jean Pierre and that bitch Nena must be somewhere here. I gotta lose this Stand before I find them._ Which, given how labyrinthine these places were, would not be difficult.

As this co-called "Far Away Eyes" continued charging after her, Della ducked into a nearby alley. It wasn't long, so she was able to leave it as quickly as she had entered it and manage to hide behind several barrels of produce nearby. The Stand had followed her, its footsteps growing louder and heavier down the alley. She stood silent, praying that it wouldn't find her. When the footsteps came to a halt near her, she dared a quick peek from her hiding spot.

Standing near the barrels was indeed the minotaur, but it was no longer made of stone. Its skin was a deep blue and covered in some disturbing, bright red scars. The fur on its hinds was a deeper blue. Two marble-like horns curved out before it's angry, bovine face that turned wildly from side to side. Della held her breath, desperately hoping this Stand would just go away.

 _Come on… go… I'm gone… I've disappeared… You've lost me… Please…_

And then, it spoke, again in that odd, female voice.

"I'm not blind, you know," said the Stand smugly. "I know exactly where you went. No, don't come out from those barrels. Not yet. I want to talk to you first."

Its voice, which was thick with some indiscernible accent, filled Della with panic. The Stand knew where she was, and the odds of her dying suddenly skyrocketed. Swallowing a lump in her throat, she rasped out a pitiful, "A-About what?"

"About how you have no hope here. You see, I know how everyone's mind works. They think that, just because they run to a populated area like this little bazaar, they can lose me. But the truth is, they can't. I'm already here. And once I've set my sights on a target, I will not stop chasing them. I'll always find them. There's no escape for you or Polnareff at all."

Without so much as a warning, the minotaur punched the ground with such power that she felt the shockwave pass her entire body. She didn't know why this Stand did it, but it was very unnerving. Especially since when it stood upright, its musculature grew and tightened before her eyes. The scars looked as if they ripped open, revealing sinewy muscle beneath. It might have been her, but it looked stronger than it did a moment before.

"I'd hate to kill such a pretty girl like yourself, but when you have a hefty price on your head, sparing you is out of the question. You can try to run, but… heh… I will find you… Ten… nine…"

 _She's counting down_ , she thought with more panic. _I have to hurry!_ She scrambled to her feet and ran out into the street, weaving in and out of alleys in the futile hopes of getting away. Della had no chance against Stands on her own. But where would she go hide, knowing it would restlessly chase her? She felt hopeless.

"ONE!" And the trampling of hooves resumed, growing louder and frighteningly closer than before. Far Away Eyes knew exactly where it was going, it made Della panic even more. Was she truly doomed, as her attacker had taunted? Was there no place to hide from such a foe? She needed to keep her wits about her, otherwise, she would die. With a shake of her head to rid herself of her dread, she ran all throughout the streets as quickly as she could in search of help.

But as the minutes dragged on and the trampling ceased to end, Della was finding it hard to put her hopes on finding Jean Pierre. She had somehow managed to traverse through the same streets an untold number of times. Her legs and sides were on fire. And what made things worse was that even when she thought she had lost it, the Stand had managed to find her. A few times it had tried to gore and punch her, but she somehow managed to escape it each time.

The strangest thing about these encounters was how in certain parts of the town, its muscles were far bigger and more menacing than before while In others, they were deflated and feeble.. It was odd, but something in the back of her mind told her that these moments were when she could strike back (if she had a Stand, that is). It was a small comfort knowing it had some weakness, making it all the more important that she find her friend.

Even stranger was when at one point, she tried backtracking to where she entered town and encountered an invisible wall. There was no better explanation for it. She couldn't pass through, no matter how hard she pushed. She couldn't leave. And this wall seemed to encircle most of the town, trapping not only herself but several townspeople who stood confused and wondering how to leave. Far Away Eyes explained it for her at one point.

"Do you like my little barrier, Della," it jeered as the pursuit continued. "I put it up the moment you led me here with such false hopes. It encircles this entire city. None can enter or leave until I put it down." And it became all too clear what that one, random punch was. It didn't explain how its musculature kept changing, but it did show her that this user had planned to trap her here this entire time. Della almost felt ashamed that she even allowed that to happen.

After several more minutes of a tired chase, a miracle had occurred. At the end of an alleyway, in the middle of a somewhat busy street, was the silver-haired Frenchman Jean Pierre. And beside him was Nena. She could not have felt happier to have seen the two. _I found him_ , she thought with relief. _I'm finally saved!_

Before she could open her mouth, she felt the minotaur slam her into the ground. In her moment of hope, her steps had faltered, leaving her her attacker to finally catch up. She felt foolish, but moreso if she stood silent. She tried calling out to Jean Pierre, but a blue, veiny hand muffled her voice. Nena seemed to register the odd noise and turn towards the alley. _She can't see Stands. She'll think I just tripped on something. Quick! Make a signal! Some-_

The girl didn't do anything of the sort. Nena's eyes had traveled upwards, stopping to stare out above the prone girl. Jean Pierre was about to turn to them curious as to what she was staring at, but the Indian girl had steered his attention to her, dragging him away from the two on the ground. And as it happened, it all suddenly clicked for Della.

 _Nena… She saw the Stand… She ignored me… And she's distracting Jean Pierre… She's… She's a Stand user… And she's working with Dio…_

"Looks like Nena's doing a pretty good job at keeping lover-boy preoccupied," whispered Far Away Eyes, as if she read Della's thoughts. "She's such a sweet girl. She knew I'd lead you here and hunt you down, and she's kept her eye out for you, making sure that your buddy was far away from you. I ought to convince Dio to pay her double once she's done with Joseph."

 _Mr. Joestar's in trouble?!_ The words helplessly tumbled into the Stands hand. "Oh yeah, he is. Nena's the one who's got him all tied up. You noticed that funny-looking rash on his arm, right? That was her. Her blood infected him with her Stand, Empress." The ghoulish smile of the swelling on her boyfriend's grandfather's arm flashed in her mind. "He's here, too. And like Nena, I've been steering you away from him. He has enough to worry about without you bugging him."

It was all planned, both Nena's deception and the chase into town. She and Mr. Joestar had been led away from any help into an inescapable trap. And the only one that _could_ help was cluelessly being manipulated. Mr. Joestar could probably luck himself out of his situation, but Della… had no such luck. No Stand, no fighting experience, and no chance of using her _hamon_. The confidence she felt earlier was gone. Her former helplessness had returned. And it made her cry.

 _It's not fair_ , she thought through her bitter tears. _Even when I think I have a chance, I'm still a burden. Nothing's changed. And now I'm paying for it. I shouldn't have come to this town… I shouldn't have come on this trip… Jojo… Oh god, you were right… I'm sorry I've been holding you all back… I'm… I'm so fucking useless..!_

She could hear Far Away Eyes positioning its horns over her back. Memories of her life flashed before her. Her entire childhood, her trauma, the friendships she shared, her meeting with Jojo, the adventure they embarked on, the battles…

And it was when her mind thought about the battles she had witnessed and been a part of that she remembered her encounter with Forever the orangutan. It was the first time she had stood up to fight. She felt defiant bravery at that moment, the will to fight and protect those around her. She had unconsciously promised herself afterwards that she would not back down, Stand or no Stand. Remembering this one, nearly forgotten moment lit up a spark within her.

 _No… This won't be where it all ends... Not here… Not this far from Egypt… My friends… Jojo… I have to… I have to fight for them…_ Determination swelled within her heart once again. The will to fight burned all throughout her, her body trembling beneath her attacker.

"W-What the," muttered Far Away Eyes as it moved off her.

"I won't back down," Della growled as she slowly got to her feet, still shaking as she did. Something else was welling up inside of her. She could feel it growing like a bubble. What was it? "I _won't_ back down… Not now… nor ever… I promised myself that I would no longer be a burden to my friends… That I would help them… And I'm not going back on my word... Not for some bull-headed bitch like you…"

The Stand laughed at her boast. "Oh, really? And how do you expect to keep going on if you don't even have a Stand of your own? You have nothing that can save you or your friends!"

"Yes, I do… I have my love for my friends… And that's exactly what I'm going to use to break you!" The bubble-like feeling within her grew to its very limit, then burst from all throughout her body and reformed into something physical. Appearing before her was what could only be described as a fairy. Pink and thin, adorned in a magenta two-piece bikini, helmet, pauldrons, and armored limbs. The pale crest on her helmet that framed her noseless face formed into two long antennae.

 _This is it_ , she thought in awe. _This is my Stand…_

Her attacker's pale eyes were wide with shock, staring back into the large, black, bug-like eyes of her Stand. She took a step back and bellowed, "W-WHAT IS THAT THING," with a hint of worry in its voice.

"You know what this is... And you know how this will end." The fairy-like Stand nodded and clenched her fists. On her knuckles were what looked like pale bushings that matched the small holes on the plates on her arms, legs, and abdominal area. Blowing out from these holes were large bubbles that coating her hands. None popped or blew off. She threw a single punch at Far Away Eye's chest, popping one of the bubbles with a powerful impact and making it stagger in pain.

After the experimental punch, her Stand decided to let loose a barrage of rapid-fire punches that would make her boyfriend proud. The alley filled with the loud explosion of bubbles and a shouting stream of " _AMORAMORAMOR_!" The skin on the minotaur broke apart with each blow like stone, exposing it crimson muscles beneath. When she landed the final blow, a bubble-coated uppercut, she sent it flying down the alley onto its back.

With some distance between herself and the Stand, Della took a moment to look back at her own. She was both awed and elated that she had finally awakened it. And she was so beautiful, even if she was wearing a bikini. Just looking at her and what she did allowed her to get an idea of what her powers could be. The holes on her body could form bubbles, perhaps like the ones from her knuckles. But how they could be used, she would have to test that out.

Which might end up being sooner than later, as the shaking minotaur got back to its feet. There were large chunks of muscle exposed along her abs, arms, and half its face, making it look almost like a zombie. And it looked as angry as it was frightened.

"Y-Your Stand," is growled as if things were not going its way. Which was true. "It's got s-some strength to it… And my body… it feels hot… Why does it feel so hot?! What did you hit me with?!"

"If I had to guess…" Della took a moment to focus her _hamon_. To some minor surprise, her Stand did the same and was surrounded in the bright sparks. "Yep. I think I unconsciously infused those bubbles with _hamon_. Kinda hard to tell since I was more focused on whipping your butt."

Far Away Eyes' own eye twitched in annoyance. It then huffed through its nose and pointed accusingly at her. "You got lucky… That's all it was, luck! You're still a fledgling! You can't fight properly! Just looking at you, I can tell you have no experience in fights whatsoever! Even Dio said so when he sent me here! It's why I chose to come after you!"

"Well, its proved to be a mistake, hasn't it? You underestimated my weakness. Just like the minotaur of legend. I'm pretty sure you know about it, right?" The Stand shook even more where it stood as Della and her own slowly began approaching. "A warrior named Theseus enters the supposedly inescapable labyrinth and slays the raging minotaur trapped inside. And I'm pretty sure, as you have just now, he underestimated him."

"S-So what?! You think you're Theseus now, just because I'm on the ropes?! You're nothing! You're weak! _He_ was weak! Theseus only killed him because he caught it completely off-guard! He got lucky!"

"And he did not back down, even when there were plenty of opportunities to. I mean, he entered the den of a man-eating beast. Anyone else would have ran. Even _I_ would have, just like I did earlier. But not anymore. I will never run now. Not against you or anyone else Dio throws at me. You might think I'm weak, but in reality, it's _you_ that's weak. Look at you. You're shaking."

"You filthy, fucking hypocrite!" They were now nose to nose. Any fear Della had seemed to have transferred over to her attacker, and it felt satisfying to know that she did this. "G-Get away from me!"

"No. Not until I kick your ass. And here's the thing." She threw it the most menacing smile she could. "I will not stop chasing you. I'll find you. There's no escape for you at all"

With its words twisted and thrown back, the Stand roared and pushed past her, running with its tail literally tucked between its legs. It was funny to see it run away in cowardice, but she couldn't let it go knowing she could come back and hunt them when their backs were turned. So Della ran again, this time after the Stand rather than away from it. And it seemed easier than the other way around. It wasn't taking any shortcuts. Perhaps it was that scared that it couldn't think straight.

Along the way, she ended up seeing Jean Pierre and Nena discussing something mundane. Far Away Eyes ran past them, leaving them both in bewilderment. When the Frenchman turned to see what she was running from, his eyes widened when he saw Della and her Stand. "D-Della! And- Is that your Stand?! What's going-"

"Stand attack," she puffed out. "I'll explain it later!" And as she passed, she took a brief moment to do what she had been waiting to do since they left Calcutta. Her fist, not her Stand's, slammed straight into Nena's jaw and knocked her off her feet. Jean Pierre was left behind in speechless shock at what she did, but it didn't matter. She felt satisfied, more so now that she knew her secret.

The minotaur was slowly starting to deflate before her eyes, the scars slowly becoming almost invisible to her eyes. But the patches of missing skin did not fix themselves. And it didn't stop there. It was also becoming skinny, as if it was running its weight off. It looked far weaker than she had ever seen it. And as she continued chasing it, she came to yet another realization.

 _Far Away Eyes has been at its strongest around the edge of town. And the weakest I've seen it was closer to the middle of town. That field it set up wasn't only to trap us in, but to help amplify its power the further away it was from the middle of where it activates it. It sounds like the opposite of most Stands, were they get weaker if they go out too far. So… maybe… it's headed back to its user! The user has been here this entire time!_

It didn't take long for the Stand to lead her to a rather sizable building. Perhaps an apartment. It continued to run even when they were inside, now escaping on several flights of stairs. She followed after it, keeping her Stand close by for safe measure. It looked as if it was heading to the top level, which brought to mind that this user might have been watching over Della from some vantage point like a hawk would its prey.

They both eventually reached the top, the minotaur hurriedly climbing a set of ladders propped against a large hole in the ceiling. When she did the same, Della came out onto the roof, just in time to see her attacker disappear into its user. She was a rather voluptuous woman with one of her bright brown eyes shut and bleeding, her black air tied in pigtails turned upwards like horns and a tight, white outfit that exposed most of her stomach and ample breasts.

What skin she showed was covered in patches of bloody, exposed muscle.

"You shouldn't have gotten a Stand," she spat in the same, thick voice as her Stand. "We were confident that we could snuff you out before it happened… Why the hell do _you_ have to be a Stand user..?"

"I kept asking myself that since I found out I could see them," responded Della as she approached the Stand user. "But now, I think I know why I have it. Because I was destined to fight alongside my friends, who I love so much. I told you, I made a promise. Both my Stand and I are going to fight for them, and for the future. And we're doing it with all our love."

"To hell with you and your love! You're still a weak little chicken-shit!" She and her Stand, now back at a normal size, made one last charge at her.

"Do you think you can still fight me in your current condition," asked Della, now stopping a few feet away from her now. "Because if you do, then you're as blind and reckless as a pissed-off bull in a china shop."

Her Stand's fists, coated in bubbles again, began punching her foe down as fast she could. She shouted " _AMORAMORAMOR!_ " with almost every second she wailed on her bloody body. When Della thought she had enough, she threw one last punch at her jaw with a resounding cry of, " _AMORE!_ " The woman was sent screaming and flying a few feet off the building to her possible demise. Her survival didn't matter to her at the moment.

What did, however, was that she had not only survived her first, personal battle, but won it as well. Her Stand's appearance was nothing short of a miracle. Had it not shown up when it did, then she wouldn't be standing where she was. She, like the legendary Theseus before her, was a _very_ lucky girl. Della's confidence and love gave her today's victory, and the triumph of overcoming the inescapable odds was one she was very proud of.

And she knew that when she returned to her beloved Jojo, he would express his own in her.

"I know he'll be proud," she said with a glowing smile on her face. "And so will the others… And so will my parents, both adoptive and birth... They'll all be proud of the love I have that would go on to fight and protect for them till the day I die. All my love."

 _All My Love… It's a beautiful name._

~MELANIA: RETIRED~

~NENA (1940-1988): RIP~

~THE INDIAN GIRL NENA POSSESSED (1972-1988): RIP~

* * *

STAND TIME

STAND USER: Melania (メラニア)

STAND: Far Away Eyes (遠くの目)

POWER: C (NORMAL)-VARIES (WITHIN ITS FIELD), SPEED: C, RANGE: A, DURABILITY: C (NORMAL)-VARIES (WITHIN ITS FIELD), PRECISION: E, POTENTIAL: D

Far Away Eyes is a Stand based on the minotaur from the legendary Grecian tale. Its range is estimated to be about the size of Greece itself (more specifically the distance between the northernmost point by the Bulgarian border and the southernmost point of Crete). It will chase down whoever its target is until it kills them. Its user prefers to have a vantage point to find out where her targets are as an advantage. The Stand chases people into populated areas and creates an invisible, inescapable barrier of over 400 meters to trap them. It can only use this if the user is in the area. The further away it is from its user, the more powerful it becomes. However, if it gets too close, its strength will drop. This only applies within the field.

I don't know which town/bazaar Joseph fled to in Part 3. So I chose the closest one to The Clarks. It seemed fitting given how labyrinthine it looked, and I wanted to have Della trapped again for her first true fight. So, was the introduction to her Stand what you'd expect? Let me know what you all think. And please, if you find any errors, definitely let me know. I appreciate it.


	20. Give Me All Your Lovin'

Ch. 20  
Give Me All Your Lovin'

DECEMBER 17TH, 1988  
08:11  
DEHLI, INDIA

A few days ago, Joaquín discovered that Della had awakened her Stand while she was away from the hotel. All My Love, she called it. It felt weird that she gained not only her Stand, but _hamon_ , in the span of a few short days, but it didn't matter. It was thanks to these powers that his girlfriend survived her arduous ordeal with Far Away Eyes. Not only was he happy she made it in one piece, but proud that she won all on her own.

The feelings of elation, unfortunately, did not last when a rather shell-shocked Jean Pierre and a sketchy-looking Joseph returned to the hotel. "We have to leave," said his grandfather hurriedly, trying to hide his face with his battered, pinkiless prosthetic hand. "Something came up and we have to go hide. Grab what you can. Wallets, passports, whatever's important. Leave the luggage. I'll tell the Foundation to pick up the rest. We'll leave at night."

As it turned out, while Della was fighting, so was his grandfather. Apparently, Nena was an assassin disguising herself as a young girl. She implanted her Stand on him and framed him for theft and murder. The police were looking for him at that moment, and they would be forced to take several important belongings before hiding out that night. Nobody was happy, but these sort of things were expected to happen when someone was out for their blood.

 _It's actually not that bad_ , he thought then. _It means we don't have any baggage for a while. Literally. I mean, we may have to do with fewer clothes, but it could be worse._ He personally didn't have much. He always wore his grandmother's locket, so everything else, sans wallet and passport, were left behind. Della took her grandmother's necklace she had shown him on the train trip to Burma. Meanwhile, Jean Pierre did them all a favor and took some of their clothes in his bag.

"I didn't bring much, so it's okay by me," he said hollowly.

Being duped by such a repulsive-looking woman, which sounded funnier when Joseph explained it, left him in a powerful state of shock. It lasted all the way until night when they drove off in a Land Cruiser they secretly bought, him taking the wheel. And he insisted on driving each day since, perhaps as a means to wipe his mind off of Nena's disgusting deception.

Today, they were still driving along the northern part of India, a ways away before they reached the border to Pakistan. They drove through mountain roads to their destination, the scenery alternating between towns and grassy hills to towering snow-capped mountains in the distance. The sight, as well as the sudden chills they felt, were all very welcoming. It reminded him of New York, which he knew had to be covered in snow now.

"These must be the Himalayas," asked Della, sitting on Joaquín's lap as she looked between a map they picked up along the way and the mountains.

"Part of them," answered Joseph beside them, flexing his slightly-repaired robotic fingers. "That's why it's getting colder now, because we're driving close to them. But thankfully, we're not heading there. Our next stop is the India-Pakistan border. We should be there in no time."

"Yeah, if this _trastajo_ can move out of the way," groaned Joaquín in annoyance. Driving slowly in front of them for the past few minutes was a rather old and dusty grey car. It looked like it came from the '50s, but it was hard to tell without looking at the front. It must have been breaking down, for it seemed to be surrounded by clouds of smoke that made them cough. " _P-Por dios_ , can't we just drive around this thing? I can barely breathe."

Jean Pierre shrugged as he coughed as well. "I don't know," he said, feigning doubt. "I mean, these mountain roads are pretty narrow. And this car is taking its sweet time. Maybe we should let it go."

"Are you fucking serious?"

"Pfth! No! I'm overtaking it!" And he immediately hit the gas and maneuvered around the slow vehicle before them. They were almost close enough to almost hit it. Noriaki warned him not to drive so rough, but he didn't hear him. Joaquín looked behind him, seeing several rocks being flung by the wheels dangerously close and hard by one of its headlights. The Frenchman chuckled at his success. "Oh, how I love a good four-wheel drive. Makes wastelands like these a breeze to drive on."

Joseph, looking back at the car, did not share his joy. "H-Hey, don't tell me you bounced off those rocks on purpose! You could cause an accident! I'm in enough trouble as it is…" He sat back and pinched the bridge of his nose in stress. "They probably already have a warrant out for my arrest. That doctor was diced pretty badly… I just want to get past the border safely, please!"

" _That being said_ ," said Noriaki solemnly, " _it's almost time for us to say farewell to India._ "

Everyone fell silent. The entire time in India had been nothing but a massive ordeal for them from the moment they set foot into that town in Calcutta. Mohamed was incapacitated, a total of five Stand users attacked them (one of which escaped), and to cap it all off, Joseph was a wanted man. Sure, they had a good time, but with everything that happened, Joaquín never wanted to return. Not when it almost became the resting place of one of his friends.

"When we arrived in Calcutta," began Joseph, "my first thought was, 'This country's nothing but a dump!' I still think it, but now that we're getting closer to Pakistan, I think I'm going to miss is. The hustle and bustle of Calcutta, the peaceful flowing Ganges-"

"The fresh smell of cow shit," Joaquín jokingly added, which earned him not a sound of disgust, but a sincere chuckle.

"Yeah, that too. Just the little things that make this country stand out from any other I've visited in my life. Maybe when I'm older, and everyone's forgotten about what happened, I might return. Until then, I bid this country my farewell." When he finished speaking, Jean Pierre spoke something in French. "What did you say, Polnareff?"

"That when this is over," he said stoically, eyes still on the road, "I'll return here and give our friend a proper burial."

 _You won't have to worry about that soon_ , thought Joaquín happily. _Once he wakes up, and I know he will, he'll be back with us._

The cruiser went silent again as they passed a sign reading "SERVICE AREA AHEAD". The didn't need gas, but they could go for a brief pit-stop. But the silence broke once again when Joutarou spoke up. " _Oi, jijii_. You look like something's on your mind."

"There is," said Joseph, turning to look at Della. Or rather, the necklace she wore. "Della, where did you get that from?"

She looked up from her map at him, then to her necklace with its shining turquoise gem in the center. "Um, my grandmother," she said fondly. "My maternal grandmother, not the one you met. She gave it to mom, and before she, you know… she gave it to me."

"And where did your grandmother get it from?"

"My grandfather. He gave it to her as a sign of his love for her. But he left one day and never came back, leaving her with mom. That's what mom told me."

Joseph's eyes never left the necklace she wore, and Joaquín could tell Della was just as curious about the questions as he himself was. "Is there more to the story," he asked calmly.

She thought for a moment before answering him. "It was… many years ago, obviously. She had ended up meeting a wonderful man in Italy. According to her, he was a charming man who stole her heart. They dated for a few days, even slept with one another. Then, he took her out to a restaurant in Rome and gave her a gift. The necklace." Her fingers touched the gem, a smile on her face. "He told her to always think of him every night after taking the necklace off. And she did, for many years."

Joutarou scoffed in mild amusement. "That sounds like something Polnareff would say," he said. "I'm certain he was a ladies man as well."

But their grandfather did not look amused. In fact, he looked pale and very lost in thought. It was as if something jammed within the gears in his mind. After a moment, he tentatively asked Della, "W-Was there… was there another person at that diner?"

She nodded and giggled. "It's a bit funny, but this guy, some city boy, threw some pasta at my grandfather. And he ended up catching it with some macaroni in his fork." That did indeed sound funny, but one look at his grandfather's shocked expression stopped Joaquín in his tracks. When he tapped her shoulder, she noticed his expression too, and her smile dropped. "What's wrong? Do you know these guys?"

Before he could answer, an agitated car horn honked from behind. He and the others looked back and saw what looked like a grey, beat-up Hudson hornet tailing them. "It's that car we passed earlier," said Joutarou, looking at it with mild surprise. "I'm surprised it reached all the way back to us."

"Are you kidding me," Jean Pierre asked incredulously. He hit the gas in a effort to drive away from it, but all the junker did was mimic their speed. They were almost fender to bumper. " _Incroyable!_ Why was it going so slow earlier if it's in such a rush now?!"

"J-Just let it pass by, Polnareff," said Joseph, trying to regain his composure from the conversation. _I hope he tells us later,_ thought Joaquín as he watched Jean Pierre give a hand signal for their "pursuer" to pass. _I'm kinda curious as to what he knows about Della's story. The way he acted was so… weird… Does he know her_ abuelito _?_

Looking out the window, they saw the car pass them by. It was still smoking ominously from all around it. The windows were covered in so much dust and filth it was a miracle its driver could see. As soon as it rested in front of them, it deliberately slowed down. And so to did Jean Pierre, who growled in annoyance. "Oh for the love of…" He stuck his head out the window and yelled, "What the hell are you doing?! You were going so fast before, why the fuck are you slowing down?!

" _Maybe they're upset because of how reckless you drove earlier_ ," suggested Noriaki, a hint of admonishment in his tone.

"Did anyone see their face?" asked Joutarou, who received a chorus of "No" for an answer. The windows of that care were far too dusty to see anyone driving it. It was that thick. He then said, "It might just be me, but maybe we have another Stand user after us."

"Don't say that," Joseph almost yelled, though he still told Jean Pierre, "Do be careful, Polnareff." He didn't need telling twice. Then, quite unexpectedly, the right, drivers-side window of the junker rolled down. A muscular arm wearing a blue wristband stuck itself out, its owner waving it to let them pass by him.

Jean Pierre chuckled at the circumstances as a now-annoyed Noriaki huffed. "It looks like he forgot that his car's performance can't keep up with its speed! Should have stayed behind us from the beginning, _imb_ _écile_!"

"It's your fault for provoking him. Now stop mucking and pass him again!" So he did. And this time, Jean Pierre drove past without trying to knock rocks into the rickety car. However, as they switched lanes, they came across the last thing any driver wanted to see on a mountain road. A massive semi-truck and trailer, blasting its horn angrily and driving straight towards them.

And there was no room to maneuver away.

"STAR PLATINUM," shouted Joutarou. The purple warrior-like Stand shot out from him a moment before they finally crashed. The impact jolted them forward slightly, but they were saved when Star Platinum acted as a kind of cushion for them, hitting the grille of the truck. _That_ impact sent them flying back and away from the truck, rolling in the air and slamming them wheels first onto the ground. Everyone hit their heads on the roof of the car as they landed, dazing them for a moment.

They looked on to see that the crash of both car and fist had left the truck almost tilted on its side and smoking. The front of their SUV had suffered a dent and most of their window was broken. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. " _Thanks, bro_ ," said a thankful Joaquín. " _If Star Platinum didn't prevent that crash, we would have been killed._ "

"You got that right," said Jean Pierre, trembling and gripping the wheel hard. "I don't think my Chariot or Kakyouin's Hierophant could be fast enough to stop a head-on collision… That bastard… Who the fuck was he..?"

"Uh, guys," said Della as she looked out every window, even behind them, "did any of you see where that car went?"

Everyone looked around and noticed she was right. The junker that lured them into the truck was nowhere to be found. "Hey, you're right," exclaimed Joaquín. "Where did that coward drive off to?"

" _I don't know_ ," said Joutarou pensively. " _But something about what happened seems too suspicious. He purposefully followed us, then made us drive into a truck. That's not something a normal person would often do in the mountains unless they have a massive grudge. This is more than petty revenge._ " He turned to his brother. " _Joaquín, what do you think? Think we got a Stand user after us? Or was it just some bastard with a screwed-up mind fucking with us?_ "

" _I mean… yeah. It has to be a Stand user. You saw how he was screwing around. Something that underhanded, he has to be working for Dio. But the problem is… I saw nothing remotely Stand-like near him. Not even the car looked like one. So… I don't know… We should worry about that later. If we see him again, we should try to find out…_ " He then turned to Jean Pierre. "Hey, we can still drive right?"

The Frenchman gave an experimental rev, and nothing sounded out of the ordinary. "Seems like it. So we keep going?"

"Yeah, let's be a bit more careful going to the border."

" _And what about the truck_ ," asked a worried Noriaki, gazing at the now flaming truck. " _Star Platinum messed it up badly when it hit it._ "

Everyone looked uncomfortable when they saw it. They were in enough trouble as is, and getting involved any longer with the truck would lead to more problems. Sheepishly, Joaquín scratched his head and muttered, "Uh… we… we leave it be. None of us saw anything. Nobody's gotta know what happened here. We just… leave it be. All we can hope is that the driver isn't dead."

And so they sped off, leaving behind the wreck and its angry, surviving driver.

~+JO*JO+~

It wasn't long after this that they came upon a tea house on the road. The crazed driver never appeared again since his dangerous stunt, which made the drive from then to now somewhat tense. Despite wanting to know who it was who almost killed them, the group felt it better that they don't see him again. Moreso if they took their time at this pit stop.

Everyone took a seat at a bench across from some rather surly men drinking tea. Working behind the counter was what Joaquín assumed to be the shop owner, flattening peeled sugar canes through a wringer to extract its juices. "That looks like an interesting drink," he said as he watched.

" _I'll get our drinks_ ," said Noriaki as he stood up. " _Chai, anyone?_ "

After going to order their drinks, they were all left to talk among themselves. And there was only one thing that needed to be talked about. " _Abuelito_ ," addressed Joaquín to his grandfather beside him. "What was all that about earlier? About Della's _abuelito_. Did you know him or something?"

Joseph, who had stood uncharacteristically stoic after the accident, had taken to looking at his folded hands when the sat. When he heard the question, he stood silent for a moment. And then his signature smile came back. He looked up at his grandson and Della and whimsically said, "I think I do. You see, Della, I remember that day fifty years ago. I had just gotten to Rome after my battle against one of the Pillar Men, tipped off by Stroheim to meet someone who would know more about them.

"I stopped at a restaurant, and I couldn't help but notice this _very_ flirty punk wooing some poor girl. I thought he was just showing off for a shag. So, naturally, I felt I should make him look foolish. I tossed some _hamon_ -infused pasta at him and, as you said, he caught it in some macaroni. Then he tossed it straight through my glass, and now it had _his_ _hamon_ in it. And when the waiter addressed him, I realized who he was."

"That man was the one I was told to meet. The man known as Caesar Zeppeli."

Both Joaquín and Della gasped, looked at one another, then back at Joseph. "A-Are you s-serious," stammered Della. "Y-You mean… My g-grandfather and you… h-he was that C-Caesar you t-told us about?"

"He has to be." Joseph smiled even brighter than before. "The stories are a perfect match. And given how much of a womanizer he was, forgive me for saying that, there was no doubt in my mind that somewhere out there, he had a child. And here's the proof! His grandchild! Ha ha!" His happiness over this revelation brought tears to his eyes and blush on Della's face. Hundreds of questions must be running through her head.

"I-I didn't think I'd be related to such an important person," she said as she cupped her own cheek bashfully. "O-Or to such an important family. The Zeppelis… They have a history with _hamon_ , right? It's only natural I'd inherit that as well."

"It's thanks to them that we have _hamon_ in the first place. They were a proud family who believed in personal bonds and paving a path towards a brighter future. And it was through the bond shared between William and Jonathan that the next generation has found one another." He clapped his hand on her shoulder, still smiling. "I'm sorry if this is too much for you. It's a shock for me as well."

Della stood silent for a moment. It looked like she was slowly taking all of it in. It was, after all, a massive bomb to drop. Given that she had two major ones appear in the form of her powers, he was surprised she wasn't short-circuiting from the overload. After a moment, she looked up at Joseph with a determined smile. "No, not at all. In fact, I feel proud. I know I barely know about the Zeppelis, but… Knowing that I've always been destined to fight alongside Jojo make me so proud."

"And I'm proud to be fighting with you, Della," said Joaquín as he hugged her tightly. "Just promise me you won't end up sacrificing yourself for me, okay?"

"No promises on that one."

"OY!" Jean Pierre's sudden exclamation brought them out of their moment. He was looking behind them, an angry, shocked expression on his face. When they turned around, they could see what triggered him. Parked behind a tree was their attacker's rickety, smoking car. "That bastard! His car's here!"

Both Joaquín and his brother jumped from their seats and rushed to the car without hesitation. When they reached it, they saw that the driver's window was clean, giving them a clear view of a normal, empty interior. He swore under his breath and turned to his younger brother. " _I don't see him_ ," he whispered. " _How long you think he's been parked here?_ "

" _Probably longer than us_ ," Joutarou whispered back, looking back at the tea shop. His eyes were focused on the group of burly men. " _I noticed when we got here that all of those men are wearing the same types of wristbands as our mystery attacker. But only one of them is blue, just like his._ " He pointed out to the man with a long and wavy black pompadour sipping his tea.

" _You're right. But let's not make assumptions. I know we've had users hiding in plain sight before, but that can't be the case all the time. 'Sides, if he's as cowardly as I think he is, he wouldn't hide in plain sight. Come on._ " He motioned for him to follow as he walked back towards his group. Joseph was talking with everyone else, all either worried or upset. He told them all, "Nobody's in there. We checked the car. And I don't think any of the men here are the driver."

"So then where is he," demanded Joseph. "Around the building or something? Until we know for sure this man's one of Dio's, we can't cross Pakistan's border safely! Check the patrons here! One of them has to be him!"

" _Abuelito_ , think about it. After what just happened to us, you think that guy would be stupid enough to sit in public knowing full well that any of us can beat the shit out of everyone here?" The men across from them seemed to understand him, for they paused mid-sip and looked worriedly in his direction. "We're clearly not gonna, but the risk is there, and he wouldn't take it."

Joseph sighed in irritation and was about to say something else before they heard of a car door slamming. Everyone turned to see the muscular arm of the driver relaxing out the window before he suddenly screeched off.

"H-He just got in so quickly," gasped Della.

"D-Did he just trick us again," growled Jean Pierre.

"Everyone, did you catch a glimpse of his face," asked Joseph desperately.

" _No_ ," answered Noriaki. " _All I saw was his arm… Just what is he doing? He's neither ambushing us or fighting us directly. I think he's just a crazy driver who decided to just chase us for the thrill of it._ "

 _No_ , thought Joaquín, not at all believing Noriaki's excuse. _He has to be a Stand user. No normal man would pull the stunt he did. We need to find him before he has a chance to do that again._

Before he said anything, Jean Pierre was already dashing to their vehicle. "Come on," he called out, the anger from earlier resurfaced. "We're going after him!" Nobody needed to be told twice, everyone piling in with sped off after the potential Stand user in the distance. As Jean Pierre floored the pedal, the car before them was driving faster than theirs. It was very annoying to see a piece of junk outrun them like this.

They were quickly coming upon a fork in the road. Between the paths was a sign saying that Pakistan was on the right one, the pole it was on bent as if someone hit it. The mystery driver turned in this direction, and they would have too, had Della not called for them to "Turn right, turn right!"

"Why should I turn right," barked Jean Pierre. "We're going to lose him!"

"No, but we might end up trapped!" She was looking back at her map, eyes darting around the area they were driving on. "The road that way doesn't lead to Pakistan! The left path does! It goes through a tunnel and runs parallel to a railroad!"

"Are you sure?"

"I am! This guy's trying to trick us again! We can't risk another setup! I know you wanna get back at that crazy driver, but we need to forget chasing him! Especially if he's a Stand user!" Joaquín could almost see the gears turning in his friend's head. It was almost like back in India, a conflict between pursuing someone or not. He must have thought back to the last time this happened and how it endangered them all. Especially Mohamed. That was the last thing he would want happening again.

Without further argument, the car jerked and drove down the left path. Within minutes, they came upon the tunnel Della mentioned within the mountain's base. _That was some sharp thinking, Della_. _I think your ancestors are definitely smiling for that one._

As they were nearing the exit, she spoke out again, this time more subdued. "I'm sorry for that outburst. I just… I'm not acting cowardly. I'm just trying to think rationally. Let's say Joutarou is right, that this guy's a Stand user. Wouldn't the best course of action be to try and avoid him? Especially since we don't really know what he can do?"

"You have a point," said Joseph, taking a moment to look behind them. "All these confrontations, they'll only slow us down. We need to just keep moving, especially while we're here in India."

"And who says you're… gonna make it out alive?"

Someone had spoken out. All eyes fell upon Jean Pierre, who cautiously said, "T-That wasn't me at all… It sounded like it came from the radio."

Indeed, the radio crackled to life, broken words hissing through the speakers all around them. All they could make out was "Stand… Wheel… how I…" Those three words alone proved that they were indeed being attacked by a Stand user. And Joaquín knew who it was. _Wheel of Fortune. That bastard back in Singapore mentioned he was one of the Major Arcana Stand users. I almost forgot about him..._

The voice on the radio spoke out in a clear, testosterone-filled growl. "My Stand's name is Wheel of Fortune! That's how I've been able to track you guys down! You've already seen it!"

"Already seen it," repeated Della confusedly before she suddenly realized what he meant. "The car! His car's the Stand! It's the same kind of Stand as Strength!"

"Bingo," laughed the voice in the speakers. "You're a lot smarter than Dio took you for! Especially since you knew not to follow me! But don't worry… Just because you avoided my trap doesn't mean you've escaped from me just yet!"

The radio clicked off. And as they left the tunnel, driving beside an unoccupied train track, they felt the earth beneath them shake. Something was traveling underground, and Joaquín had an inkling as to what it was, though it was shocking. _He can't have caught up to us this fast_ , he thought in bewilderment. But he did. Bursting forth some feet away was the Hornet, swiveling around to and face them.

"I-It's him," shouted Jean Pierre., almost faltering in his speed.

"No shit," shouted Joaquín, gripping the seat behind him. "We need to watch out! Who knows what he's gonna do!" As he spoke, the car before them twisted and contorted itself. Spikes grew along its hood, its grille widened and grew both teeth, tusks, and mandibles, and its size increased to that of their SUV. The mechanical monster, Wheel of Fortune, had shown them its true form. And when it finished, it stopped and immediately roared towards them.

"MOVE," screamed Joseph, and everyone scrambled out before their ride was struck head-on. The powerful impact threw it into a crushed and undrivable state against the mountain behind them. They all scrambled to their feet as the monstrous car swerved around, its headlights flashing menacingly at them.

"We're fucked," hissed Jean Pierre as he steadied himself. "Our ride's been totaled, and we're cornered in the ring with a raging bull!"

"Yeah, we may be fucked," admitted Joaquín, "but you seem to forget that we're _toreros_. We've got the skills and the resolve to take down any bull we're pitted against. Plus, we outnumber this freak six to one. _He's_ the one that's cornered, not us."

The "bull" in question revved its engines. And then, something bizarre happened. Something flashed in front of it that was not its lights. Something glistening. Whatever it was, it shot faster then he or anyone else could react. It left sharp, shallow and painful wounds all over his body that made him almost collapse. Just what on earth did he shoot? It felt as sharp as glass, but Joaquín somehow knew that this wasn't the case at all.

"F-Fuck," he cursed under his breath, holding his wounded arms just as he saw the car swerve towards them. It was about to do the same to them. "Guys, hit the deck! That car just fired something! I don't know what it is, but you need to move!"

Everyone did as he suggested, except for Della. She simply stood defiant against Wheel of Fortune, her own Stand appearing by her side. Under any other circumstances, he would have screamed for her to do the same, but the look on her face showed that she had an idea as to what her next course of action would be.

"So, you've got a Stand," said the user with a hint of excitement. "It's not bad looking. I gotta tell you, when Dio told me you had a dormant Stand, I wasn't expecting it to have already awakened by the time I rolled along. Looking at it now has me wondering if it's as useless as it looks!"

"You can try shooting me like you did Jojo," she said with the faintest bite of anger in her tone, which was always weird whenever Joaquín heard it. "You wanna prove a point about me being useless? Fine. I'll prove my point in showing you that I'm not. So go on. Fire away."

The mad driver scoffed and nonchalantly said, "Okay. But it's your funeral, bitch." The glistening shots of whatever it was fired directly at her. It seemed for a moment that neither Della or All My Love would have time to act. But they did. The Stand, from the holes on her body, formed a small coat of bubbles all over herself. They then shot out and stopped lazily the air, catching every last shot rather than bursting. The user let out a shriek of disbelief. "What did you do?!"

"I thought it'd be obvious," she said with a smirk. "I set up a wall to prevent anyone from getting hurt like Jojo. I honestly expected them to pop, but what happened is actually much more interesting than that. They caught whatever you shot. And given what it looks like inside," she approached one of the bubbles and curiously looked inside it, "I'd say you fired gasoline at us."

"Gasoline," asked Joaquín perplexed. When he touched one of his wounds and took a sniff of his bloody fingers, he was able to identify something like petrol mingled within the coppery scent. "Holy shit, you're right! He did fire gasoline at us! But… why?"

"I think he had plans to set us on fire. I mean, gasoline is pretty flammable. So maybe he wanted us coated in it and not realize what it was until the last second."

As the bubbles popped and spilled the gasoline onto the ground, the user banged his meaty fist against the door of his car in frustration. "God damnit," he yelled out. "You shouldn't have figured it out so quickly! You were all supposed cower before me and fry! I was supposed to come out on top, not you, you miserable lowlifes!"

"Us? Cower? Give me a break. Last time you tried getting us killed, you just drove off so we wouldn't catch you. And even at the tea shop, you ran. That right there is cowardly. We, on the other hand, aren't. Sure, we run away, but we do so to strategize and strike back harder than you could ever imagine. And we do it together, with the courage to take on monsters like you.

As Wheel of Fortune revved angrily, everyone had gotten back up and stood their ground with her. Even Joaquín, who forgone the pain in his body, stood beside her. None of them were going to back down from a fight, especially against such a madman like this. "Now… what's your next move?"

With one last rev, the car screeched towards them. "YOU FUCKING BITCH," he screamed. "YOU THINK JUST BECAUSE YOU HAVE A STAND NOW THAT YOU'RE SOME COURAGEOUS HERO?! THERE'S WAS NEVER ANYTHING COURAGEOUS ABOUT YOU AT ALL! NOW DIE!"

"I don't think you understand what courage is," called out Joaquín as Hierophant Green's legs and Hermit Purple shot out and held down the car from underneath it. It vainly tried to drive after them, but the tires did nothing but make dust as it was kept in place. Silver Chariot flew around it and jabbed at each tire, popping them effortlessly. Meanwhile, the brothers, Della, and their Stands stalked towards their prey. "So let us three define it for you."

All My Love was the first to punch into the hooded engine of the beast. "To know courage," Della shouted.

Preciosa was the second to punch into it. "-is to take fear," continued Joaquín.

Star Platinum was the last to punch it. "-and make it your bitch," finished Joutarou.

All three of their Stands let loose on the car, crumpling and breaking everything they can under the impact of their fists. Star Platinum was crushing the passenger side with cries of " _ORAORAORA!_ " All My Love was blasting the driver's side with shouts of " _AMORAMORAMOR!_ " And Preciosa was pounding the entire front of the car with a roar of " _¡TOMATOMATOMA!_ "

Inside the crumpling car, the Sand user was freaking out and screaming for them to stop. But they weren't planning on that any time soon. As the car flattened in on itself from their triple attack, the imprint of the user began pushing through the roof of the car. It was like a can ready to burst. With one last punch, they manage to break Wheel of Fortune and send its user flying out with a scream.

"That was really good," praised Joutarou to Della as he rubbed his knuckles. "I never thought I'd see that kind of determination and quick thinking from you."

"You didn't doubt me, did you," asked Della wryly, receiving a smile as an answer.

"I swear," said Joseph as his Stand retracted back into his hand, "for that one moment, you truly reminded me of your grandfather."

"Really?"

He nodded and patted her back. "Wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it."

"You're gonna have to tell me more about them. I'd love to know, Mr. Joestar. But, uh, we can do it later."

The scream from above was growing louder. Looking up, Joaquín could see the silhouette of their attacker falling back to Earth. He took a step back and let him crash in front of them. The man was downright goofy-looking when they saw him sit up. His bloody face was as emaciated as the rest of his scrawny body, framed by black, hornlike hair. He wore similar clothes to Joaquin, though his dark tank-top barely covered his pot belly. And then there were his comically muscular arms.

When he saw them all looking down at him in surprise and disgust, he screamed and tried crawling away. There was something funny about seeing someone so weird and pathetic boast such big mouth. Sure, he could back up his bark with bite, but his true temperament was simply too wimpy to take seriously.

"Where do you think you're going," asked Jean Pierre menacingly, having stood in front of the man. He let out a shriek as his back was stepped on, keeping him in place.

"I-I'm sorry," he cried in a fearful voice. "Oh god, please don't kill me! I'm no r-real killer! I was just hired for this job! I was in it just for the money! Please spare me!"

The loss of machismo in his voice was the funniest thing Joaquín ever heard. He and the others, who also thought this was amusing, all shared a hearty laugh at the misfortune. They couldn't even stay mad at him for trying to kill them. After they had their laugh, they saw noticed the monstrous car twist itself back to normal. But rather than take the form of the Hornet, it was reduced to an embarrassing roadster.

"Oh, god," sneered Joseph. "Looks like that old clunker was a part of the Stand, too. Can't believe all that power was camouflaging such a little car. It's like a sheared sheep. How pitiful."

After another good laugh, the group decided to indeed spare the man's life. To make sure they would not be chased again, they took his passport (his name was ZZ), took his car (which still worked), and left him chained to a rock. He probably would have been freed by anyone passing through, but the sign they left courtesy of Silver Chariot guaranteed that it wouldn't be happening anytime soon.

"I am a monk", it read in finely carved letters. "Please do not unbind me, for I am undergoing sacred asceticism."

They were never followed as they safely crossed the border into Pakistan.

~ZZ: RETIRED~

* * *

STAND TIME

STAND USER: Della Brown (デラ・ブラウン)

STAND NAME: All My Love (すべてあたしの愛 (オール・マイ・ラブ))

POWER: B, SPEED: B, RANGE: C, DURABILITY: C, PRECISION: C, POTENTIAL: A

ABILITY: Like her user's grandfather before her, All My Love utilizes bubbles formed from holes all over her body. When coating her body, she's able to protect herself from minor impacts. These defensive bubbles can also be shot out to form barriers that can hinder opponents and catch certain projectiles without popping. The ones from her knuckles are offensive, bursting with a powerful impact. With this, she is able to coat her fists and unleash a powered-up barrage of punches (less powerful than Preciosa's punches, but enough to break even cars). They are all conductible with _hamon_ , providing extra protection and power. In theory, she can perform the same techniques as Caesar Zeppeli, though her current inexperience brings their effectiveness to question.


	21. Even In The Shadows

Ch. 21  
Even In The Shadows

DECEMBER 17TH, 1988  
18:00  
CAIRO, EGYPT

"Lord Dio. I come with a report."

"... Speak."

"I regret to inform you that Empress, Far Away Eyes, and Wheel of Fortune, have been defeated."

"... I see… So the last of Lady Enya's personal assassins have all failed…"

"Correct. Which leads me to a related, personal report... It would seem that the witch has left the manor."

"... What?"

"She had left a moment after I relayed the news to her. Forgive me, Lord Dio. I could not stop her. Even after you calmed her, she still remains embittered over her son's death. She is still… insane."

"... I miscalculated… A mistake on my behalf… No matter… I am prepared for whatever outcome arises from her confrontation with the Joestars."

"You're not concerned that she might lose?"

"I stand by my statement… However, I do have but one small concern. Her Stand, advantageous as it is, has been weakened because of me… There is a possibility she may lose this battle…"

"What do you think will happen, Lord Dio?"

" … I don't know…"

~+JO*JO+~

The ride through Pakistan was easier now that they were no longer followed. In the midst of their drive, they needed to stop and replace their lemon with a sturdier jeep so as to avoid getting stranded. All throughout, Joseph told them all the stories he had relayed to Joaquín and Della back on their flight, but in more detail. Some were slightly emotional, like the loss of his father to one of Dio's supporters, and others were funny, like his decision to dress in drag to trick some Nazi troops.

And then there was the topic of Caesar Zeppeli, his best friend and Della's grandfather.

He was as Joseph had described him before: proud, cocky, and a complete Casanova. He was also a troubled man whose past had driven him to fight for the honor of his besmirched family name. His life's tale was a sad one, and Joaquín would have been lying if he said his girlfriend didn't cry through some parts of it. Especially when she found out he had siblings.

"I never searched them out," said Joseph, wiping his eyes on his gloved hands. "What could I possibly say to them about his brother's fate? About a brother they can probably barely remember? I couldn't bear to think about facing them."

She understood everything. And as a relative of his friend, she felt no hard feelings for him. She was proud, if anything, to have learned more about her grandfather, and happy that they both shared such a strong friendship. "He'd be proud to see me fighting by your family's side," Della told him, reaching over to hug the old man.

This was all earlier, of course. The hours passed, and their drive had become silent. Everyone was on alert, not because they were being followed, but that the road around them had been blanketed in a haze of fog. It had been like that for some time now. And since they were driving around cliffs with no guard railings around them, they were at risk of falling off. Into a ravine. That would have been an embarrassing way to go for Joaquín.

"Hey, Jean Pierre," he asked, tapping him on the shoulder. "You want I can take over driving? This fog looks like it's getting thicker."

Jean Pierre confidently shook his head, leaning ahead of his wheel slightly. "It _is_ a bit dangerous. But I can see clear enough to know where I'm going."

Joseph was looking at his pocket watch. Looking over at it, Joaquín noted that it was 2:54PM. "It's definitely getting harder to see past the car. And it's not even 3 yet…" He looked closely outside, where a small town rested a small ways away from them. "I guess it can't be helped. We should get into town and find a hotel until this fog goes down."

"Will there be any good hotels? I hope we can find a hotel with good toilets. I'm still not accustomed to the ones in India and Asia where all you have for washlets is your hands."

 _You and me both_ , Joaquín agreed silently, remembering the awkward in-ground toilets he had seen in India. But his mind wasn't on the toilets at all, but rather the town. Something about seeing it covered in such fog made him shiver. It reminded him of a dream he had about the streets of Queens being barren and covered in fog. It was uncomfortable, and he had half a mind to tell Jean Pierre to drive through. But their bodies needed the rest.

Sitting on his other side, he noticed his brother looking out his window, eyes wide for a brief moment. His shaken expression was one he never liked seeing on him, for it meant he just witnessed something truly horrific. " _Hey, Joutarou_ ," he called out to him, snapping Joutarou's gaze back at him. " _What did you see out there?_ "

" _N-Nothing_ ," he said, the shiver in his voice not at all reassuring. " _I thought I saw something back there._ "

Looking behind him, he couldn't see anything except for a faint, still shape. Almost like a dog. But he pushed it out of his mind as they wheeled into town. It was not a bustling or overpopulated like Calcutta. Were it not for the eerie mist, he would have felt at peace seeing the serenity there.

Joseph took in his surroundings as he and the others got out. He looked back at them and said, "Well, this town's a lot cleaner than I anticipated. With everyone here, I estimate its population is in the thousands… Which means there's bound to be a hotel or two around here."

"We can ask at that restaurant for directions to one," said Noriaki, pointing to one near where they parked. A fat, bearded man gazed dully at them with no reaction whatsoever.

"Jojo," came a whisper from Della, who was eyeing the townsfolk suspiciously. "Have you noticed something off about this place?"

"You mean aside from the mist," whispered Joaquín.

"Yeah. Look all around us. Something's not right… It's too quiet here. Nobody's in a rush, nobody is crowding us, yelling ' _Baksheesh!_ ' or trying to have us buy anything cheap. It's like we've stepped into a whole 'nother world… I know we're in a different country, but… I would have at least expected something other than this. It just feels so… uncomfortable..."

He didn't like it either, and the thought of spending a night here was the last thing he would want to do. But if they really had to play it safe, what choice did they have.

"You have nothing to worry about, Della," reassured Joseph. "It's just the fog affecting peoples' moods, like rainy days. It will pass." He strode past them and stood a few feet from the uninterested restaurant worker, pointing at him with I thumb to get their attention. "Now, listen up, everyone. Here in Pakistan, and to the Islamic world west of it, there's a certain way you have to greet others. First and most important is a smile. Then…

" _As-salamu alaykum!_ " The broad smile, friendly hand gesture, and the overall exaggeration of the foreign greeting to the worker were all so profound that it made Joaquín gape in disbelief. For once, his grandfather's over-the-top personality made him feel embarrassed. It didn't take a second for the man to flip the "open" sign by the restaurant to "closed" and stare at them all with the same dead stare and crossed arms. His message was clear.

"Way to go, _jijii_ ," muttered an equally embarrassed Joutarou.

" _Abuelito_ , did you have to say it so hammy," groaned his older brother.

Their grandfather gave them a sheepish smile and chuckled. "Y-Yeah, I kinda did." He turned back and spoke sincerely to the man. "I'm sorry. I had no idea you were closed. I just have a small question for you. Are there any hotels in this town? That's all I wanted to know."

He received no response. The man's eyes continued looking forward, inattentive to Joseph and the others. As a joke, or perhaps to get his attention, he made a gesture of calling and dialing from a phone."Helloooooo," drew out Joseph. But the man still said nothing. And he kept looking past them. Or rather, he wasn't even looking at anything at all. The eyes looked too glassy, an unsettling, dead look that sent shivers down Joaquín's spine.

Finally, the large man grunted, "I don't know," and turned to walk back into his restaurant.

"Hey, wait a minute," called Joseph. "What do you mean you don't know?! Is there anyone else here who would know about any hotels? Do you? I just want to know!"

Joaquín was about to say something to him but stopped when he looked back at the disappearing man. It might have been the fog, or perhaps his eyes playing tricks on him, but he could have sworn he saw several cockroaches skittering along his fat neck. He wiped his eyes, just to make sure, but they were gone when he looked again. _It really must have been my imagination_ , he thought, though he still felt unnerved. And turning back to his grandfather, he could see a similar expression on his face.

 _He saw it too…_

"Maybe he's ignoring you because of your awful pronunciation," suggested Jean Pierre, not at all hiding his amusement. "Forget that guy. Let's go ask someone else who might know."

Joseph simply nodded, but the thoughtful look on his face did not disappear. And neither did Joaquín's for that matter. They both saw something. And Joutarou… the look he had on the drive earlier was the same as theirs. _Della's right. Something's wrong with this town. We need to figure out what's going on here before one of us ends up injured. Or worse..._

"Hey! What's wrong?!"

Everyone turned to Jean Pierre, who had gone to a cloaked man sitting nearby. There was a look of horror and shock on his face that matched the man that collapsed before them, wide and glassy eyes staring out in fear to the foggy heavens. Two fat lizards scurried out of his scream-frozen mouth. He was dead, and it looked as if he died from a massive, fear-induced heart attack.

"W-What the hell happened here," exclaimed Joseph, the others standing back in shock. "Why's he dead here on the road?!"

"I don't know," Jean Pierre practically shouted. "It's like he had a heart attack and died screaming! He was like this when I went to ask him!"

"But what was so frightening that killed him," asked Della, hand covering her mouth under wide, frightful eyes. Her eyes roved over the man's body before falling on his hands. She gasped and pointed to it. "Guys! He's holding a pistol!"

And she was indeed right. Locked in his hand was a pistol, smoking from the tip as if it was recently fired. It was a chilling sight, for it meant that whatever killed him did so very recently. _But there's no sign of a struggle_ , Joaquín took note as he kneeled before the man, inspecting his body. _No visible wounds, no blood. Hell, there's not even bullet wound if this was a suicide. It's almost like that guy Peter used his Stand to kill him without any evidence. This is just too creepy._

While the brothers, Joutarou kneeling beside Joaquín, examined the body, Noriaki was arguing with a rather apathetic woman to call the police. She ignored him, leaving him to voice his shock at how everyone around them simply _did not care_.

" _Niisan_ ," calmly whispered Joutarou, gaining his brother's attention. " _What do you think killed him? I'm curious as to what really did it. But the more I mull it over in my mind, the more I keep coming to the same answer._ "

" _A Stand user_ ," Joaquín whispered back.

" _The usual reason._ "

" _But why? If this is the case, what reason would a Stand user have by killing an innocent man before we even get here? This man obviously fired before we came. There was no gunshot, no disturbance the entire time we were here. Even a little kid could tell you that..._ " It was all too mysterious to him. There had to be a reason why he died. Shock alone was plausible, but that cause seemed too silly for him to accept. " _Joutarou, I think we should check him._ "

" _Are you crazy?_ "

" _Yeah. We all are. But you said you wanted to find out what killed him. That's exactly what I'm gonna find out. You got a pen?_ "

" _And if the police actually come?_ "

He looked back at his younger brother with a stony-look. It was a pitiful excuse given the circumstances and he knew it too. His brother reached into his _gakuran_ 's pockets and handed over a pen to him. Taking it, he used it to look into said pocket and found several bus and train tickets, along with Indian currency. _He's a traveler, like us_ , noted Joaquín, _but this doesn't give me a clue as to how he did._ The pen was then used to move the neck of his shirt to expose part of his chest.

And what he saw next made him jump back.

"Jojo," exclaimed Della, who had just turned to see him back away. "Jojo, did you find something?

"Y-Yes," he said with a tremble in his voice. "L-Look at his chest! He's got a hole there!" Upon saying this, he got back down and pulled the corpse's shirt down, showing off a puncture the size of a silver dollar right on his left pectoral. It wasn't the worst injury he's seen, but something about a hole in someone's body made his blood freeze. "This hole… Whatever stabbed him like this… This _has_ to be how he died…"

"B-But… there's no blood… A hole this deep, there should be blood everywhere…"

They all cast worried looks to one another. This bizarre murder was unlike most others they had dealt with. Nobody had seen anything, and the townsfolk were ignoring both them and the body. There were no signs of a Stand attack or the presence of a nearby user. It was as hazy as the fog surrounding them, and they were getting nowhere. They needed to figure out what was going on before they too suffered the same fate.

After a quiet, tense moment, Joutarou ripped apart his shirt. And it was clear that when he did so and opened it, he instantly regretted it. Covering the traveler's body were multiple gouges. Clean, deep and bloodless and the first. He looked like a human beehive.

" _Mon dieu_ ," gasped Jean Pierre. "He looks like one of these pieces of cheese you see in Tom and Jerry!"

"None of these have blood, either," cried out Joseph, just as shocked as the others. "How could he have died?! What's going on here?!"

Panic was slowly starting to set in. He could feel it, and he knew the others did. But they had to keep their cool. They could not let fear overtake them.

"O-Okay," said Joaquín, trying not to betray the shaking in his heart. "Everyone… We need to focus… We need to stay calm… There's a high chance that this really _is_ a Stand-related death. And whoever did it could still be here waiting for us. They probably did this as a scare tactic. We need to stay together, search out this town, and-

"GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE," screamed Joseph, finally losing his nerve and running back to the jeep parked several feet away.

 _But, wait a minute… Our jeep's literally parked right here by us... So why is there a similar one over there? Unless..._

" _ABUELITO_ , DON'T!" But Joaquín's scream came too late. What appeared to be his grandfather jumping into the jeep immediately turned into him jumping into a metal, spike-tipped fence. Joseph was about to be skewered for his hastiness. But the prospect of death did not stop his quick thinking. His hand stretched out, the vines of Hermit Purple shooting out and wrapping around a nearby cable pole. He was saved just in time, the spikes barely poking his back and making him shriek.

Joutarou, confused at the sight grandfather flailing around, said, "Hey, _jijii_ , what do you think you're doing? Dumbass…"

Once seated safely against the gate, Joseph looked up at them and his eyes widened. "Oh, no," he explained. "The hell was I thinking?! Why'd I think the jeep was over here?! It's right by you all!"

"Of course it is," said Jean Pierre slowly, pointing to it. "I parked it here. Or did you forget?"

"No," interjected Joaquín. "He saw the jeep there. I saw it too…Our eyes were tricked into thinking it was in a different position, only for it to have been here the whole time… This is definitely the work of a Stand user… I hate to say it, but we definitely have to leave this place."

"But you can't leave," called out a reedy, old voice from within the mist. Everyone turned around to the voice, which belonged to a squat figure walking through the fog, a tapping sound coming from a walking stick they were carrying. When they came into view, it was revealed to be a small old lady, cloaked and wearing a square, striped mauve cap on her snow-white hair that matched her scarf. A massive cloud of hair hung behind her.

The lady gave them a toothless smile and said, "I couldn't help but overhear your concerns. A poor man lost his life, a fear over something I don't understand, and you wish to leave town? The fog is too thick and dangerous to drive through. If you don't mind, I think it's better to shack up at the hotel here. I'm the owner of it, just looking around for business. And I offer cheap prices and quality rooms. Not to mention safety."

Jean Pierre lit up at this, but none of the others shared the sentiments. Noriaki, sweating out of nerves, spoke what everyone was thinking. " _If we stay here, then the chances of being attacked are greater. Especially in this fog. They would have an advantage here…_ "

" _That may be_ ," said Della, the fear in her voice lessened, " _but we've landed in worse traps before. It's not like any of us is gonna keep our guards down._ "

"You're right about that," agreed Jean Pierre, looking back at the corpse. Policemen had finally arrived, taking him onto a stretcher. They looked just as vacant and uncaring as the other townsfolk. "But, to be honest, I'm less concerned about a Stand user and more about this town. Just look at how the police are handling that man. They don't even look concerned about his death."

The old lady tapped her stick to catch their attention, pointing to a building a small ways away. "This way, Joestar, darling. My hotel's just this way. I'll show you around once we're there and book your rooms."

With some hesitation, the group followed her. While the little lady was kind enough to offer them somewhere to rest for the night, there was something very off-putting about her. Was it the bandaged left hand behind her back? The toothless smile? Or…

"I know it's a bit small, but they shot part of a James Bond movie here 20 years back. And there was a little episode when the famous John Lennon stood here. Quite the celebrities I've served!"

"Really," asked Joseph and Jean Pierre excitedly, the former a big fan of _The Beatles_.

The lady chuckled and looked back with a teasing smile. "I got you good there, huh? But no, I'm afraid not. It's just a little white lie I tell to get customers. My little, old hotel is my pride, and I'm happy to run it whether I lie about its guests or not. I don't have anyone at the hotel at the moment, so how about I cook something special for you all? Some prime meat, or perhaps some fish?"

"Wait a second," spoke up Joaquín, now realizing what was off about the woman. "Just now… you just said Joestar... How do you know that name?"

She stopped right in her tracks. From behind, he could see the gears in her head working on overdrive to think up of an excuse. This entire time, nobody said Joestar. So how would that name even come to mind? Surely everyone else must have been feeling the same suspicions he was. The air tensed up the longer she didn't answer him.

After a minute, she turned back and smiled. "Oh, come now, dear. I heard your friend there say Joestar not too long ago." She pointed to Jean Pierre, who looked confused, but supposed that he indeed said his name. It was a flimsy excuse, and the others knew it. They had to. But to his surprise, they let decided to let it slip by. Perhaps it was out of naivety, or some silent agreement to watch over her. Either way, Joaquín couldn't trust this woman. He just couldn't…

~+JO*JO+~

The hotel, despite its age and coziness, held no comfort for Joaquín. The enemy was nearby, and the halls were filled with the same fog that hung outside. It was like they couldn't escape it. And he _knew_ that old lady had to be behind it, including the townsfolks' bizarre behavior. When everyone had settled in their rooms, he voiced his suspicions to Della, who held the same doubts in her heart. After finishing, she had brought up a harrowing thought, something he didn't think of before.

"What if this lady's that hag that one Stand user told you about? The one who taught Dio about Stands and whose son was J. Geil?"

Quite the unsettling suspicion, especially when he thought back to that bandaged hand. She had shrugged it off as a burn. But he needed to find out if Della was right. Because if so, then they were in far more danger than they already were. Especially Jean Pierre, who murdered J. Geil in revenge. He was not going to wait to see what she could do if she truly was a Stand user. She had to be taken care of immediately.

His girlfriend stood behind as he stepped out of his room, silently moving down the hallway. When he reached the end of the hall and into view of the reception lobby, he hugged the wall and took a cautionary glance into the open. And who did his eyes fall upon but a familiar man with a wide-brimmed hat, a smug grin, and the jingling of spurs strutting into the hotel and ringing the bell at the counter.

It was Hol Horse.

 _Shit! Why the hell is Hol Horse here?! Did he follow us?!_

Before he could think more on this, the cowboy spoke out, "Beggin' your pardon, Ms. Enya, but is the Joestar group stayin' on the third floor?"

The reedy voice of the lady called out "Hol Horse. So you've come." And that alone was all he needed to confirm his primary suspicion. She was the Stand user. But as to whether it _was_ the mother of J. Geil was yet to be seen. He hid back behind the wall and listened in on them, hoping one of them says something.

"That's right. That failure ZZ told me where they would be and I moseyed on over to where they ought to have been. It took a while, but I found 'em, and from there, I followed 'em straight here. But, I'm surprised, Ms. Enya. I didn't expect to see you going after 'em this soon."

There was silence, then, to the surprise of both Joaquín and Hol Horse, Enya began to sob. It was the last thing he'd expect someone like her to do.

"W-What's goin' on," asked Hol Horse consolingly. "Enya, you never cry. Tell me what's got you crying a river? H-here, let's move this elsewhere. We don't want the Joestars eavesdropping on us."

"Oh, Hol Horse," Enya choked, her voice moving further from the lobby. "I'm sorry… I'm just so happy you came for me…I've been so lonesome without my precious, baby boy in this world… You… You were a good friend of his, weren't you, Hol Horse..?"

 _And there it is_ , thought an unsurprised Joaquín. _Looks like Della's hunch was right. But now this means we're in deep shit. This is Dio's right-hand woman. She's not gonna pull any punches, especially considering Jean Pierre killed his freak for a son. I gotta deal with her quickly._ Without wasting another second, Joaquín jumped over the balustrade and landed on the bottom floor, loud enough to catch the attention of the two from the lounge they had ducked into.

"What in tarnation- Trejo!" Hold Horse wasted no time forming his Stand Emperor in his hands and taking aim. A teary-eyed and falsely fearful Enya looked up at him from having her face buried in a chair. "Damn, boy, don't scare me like that! Ain't your mama ever taught you not to eavesdrop?"

"No," said Joaquín truthfully. "That would have been my _abulelita_. But given how I've been feeling the whole time I've been in town, and because your little friend there," he pointed towards Enya, "said my grandfather's name as if she knew him, I had no choice but to be a bit nosy. And I'm glad I stuck my nose right where it shouldn't be, Enya Geil.

The little old lady, still on the floor, dropped her innocent look immediately. The lines in her face looked deeper, and her grey eyes bore deep holes of hatred into Joaquín. Slowly, she rose to her feet, her head drooped to the floor as a low chuckle escaped her mouth.

"I'm so happy," she muttered, almost as if to herself. "So, so happy… I have everyone right where I want them… My son's murderer, his accomplices… and the coward who left him for dead…"

Hol Horse's gun lowered as he cast a nervous look at her. It looked like he was also in trouble as well. Trying not to panic, he calmly pleaded, "L-Look, Ms. Enya, to be fair, J. Geil lured ol' Polnareff on his own volition. He would have wanted me to stay behind."

"The dead cannot cry out for justice… It is a duty of the living to do so for them… That's why I've been blessed with my Stand… For today... For my son…" Her head shot up to show the pure rage in her ancient, reddening face. "JUSTICE WILL BE SERVED!"

The room temperature dropped to a freezing degree. Joaquín felt a large presence right behind him. Slowly, both he and Hol Horse turned to the arched entryway. He wished he didn't. Standing silently with cold, dead eyes were well over a dozen Pakistani men and women. He recognized the surly restaurant keeper amongst the throng, and, to his horror, the corpse of the Indian traveler. And from his and several others' holes that were exposed, the fog drifted through like strings on a puppet.

And above them all was the misty shape of a wicked, crowned skeleton with cruel hands.

"T-This is your Stand," gasped Joaquín, not keeping his eyes off the group. As they slowly advanced upon their prey, their puppet master stood back and laughed maniacally.

"That's right," she jeered. "This is 'Justice'! The fog that shrouds this town controls all those who have died here! And it's not just the dead, but the living too! All it takes is a simple hole, you are instantly my Stand's puppets! With Justice, I needn't worry about having a single Stand, for I can control an entire army to kill those who have done wrong! Starting with you, Hol Horse!"

"Stand back, Hol Horse!" Preciosa had already appeared beside Joaquín, gloved fists sparking with _hamon_. _If these puppets are dead, then that meant a simple burst of_ hamon _should be enough to destroy them._ His Stand slammed both fists into the fat corpse's chest as he cried out, "OVERLOAD!" The man stopped in his tracks, shaking from the impact from the punch, but he wasn't disintegrating. There wasn't even a single burn on his clothes.

Backing away in shock, he yelled, "B-But how?! That's supposed to work on the undead! What kind of _brujeria_ is this?!"

"Your silly little ripple is useless against my army," cackled Enya. "They are more than the undead! They will never fall to anything! No amount of punching or shooting can stop their unholy advance! You're all dead!"

That didn't stop them from trying. Preciosa wailed on every one of the corpses he could find, sending them out the window nearby. Hol Horse, meanwhile, shot at one of them through the head. The bullet that shot out whizzed about and pierced through the rest of them. They all fell to both fists and bullets, and for a moment, Joaquín felt proud to have showed her she was wrong. Until, of course, they all slowly got up and glared at the two.

"S-Son of a bitch," growled Hol Horse, putting his Stand away. "She was right! Nothin's working! Can we even beat her?!"

I don't know," muttered Joaquín, wracking his brain as to his next move. "No _hamon_ , nothing physical…What about Enya? Can we even atta- ARGH!"

Something was digging into his leg. Looking down, he noticed a baby boy riddled with holes on his naked body sticking his tongue right into him. He kicked out and sent him into Enya's waiting arms. The blood that oozed out of his wound drifted into the air, mixing with the fog. After a moment, he felt the hole widen and the pain disappear. He looked back at the hag smiling wickedly and rushed to punch her, but he was immediately hooked by the wound and suspended into the air.

" _MALDITA SEA MADRE, PUÑETA_ ," screamed Joaquín, angry that he would let his own guard down for a moment. He couldn't do anything like this, and his Stand could only reach so far. Calling for help would only endanger the others. So what else could he do? "YOU'RE GONNA PAY FOR THIS, ENYA!"

Enya laughed at him as he helplessly hung upside down. "That was all I needed from you," taunted Enya. "Just one little hole! And now you're trapped! I told you there was nothing you could do! Not to my minions, and not to my Stand! As my master would say, your efforts are useless! Useless, useless, useless, useless, USELESS!" She allowed herself a manic cackle of victory. "Go on… Keep saying you'll defeat me... I want to hear how pitiful your words are as you die, Trejo!"

He could feel the blood rushing to his head. If he hung like this for any longer, he would suffer major consequences. _There's no way she's completely invincible_ , he thought defiantly. _Sure, I can't attack her or Justice directly, but there has to be some way I can beat her. There has to… What's another way I could beat a Stand? Come on, think!_

And then it came to him. Something his grandfather told him on the flight to Japan. That Stands are like _hamon_. Not only did they need to remain focused, but they also needed to breathe. Without air, their power waned. Joaquín had seen this twice before, once after trapping his brother with Preciosa's slime and once with trying to drown Rubber Soul. There was the answer! But he was too high up to hit her with any _Sapo_ Sap. So what else could he do? Unless he could get a hold of the Stand and-

There was the second answer. And he knew exactly what he had to do.

With his mind clear, albeit with building pressure, he composed himself and said, "You know, Enya… Not everyone's Stand is as invincible as you tote yours as… Each person who said that got their assess beat by us… So stop wasting your breath with that 'useless' crap… Because with the next one you take, I will defeat you and your Stand…"

The old lady scoffed and cupped her ear towards him. "What was that? You'll beat me when I do what? YOU FILTHY LITTLE BOY! I'll show you… Heh… Take another breath…" He watched as Enya do just that. Or, at least try to. It looked as if it was difficult to take in one small breath. Her face reddened before she dropped the undead baby and began clutching at her throat. She couldn't breathe. When she and Hol Horse looked up, they could see just why.

Preciosa floated beside Joaquín, taking in a deep breath. He was inhaling the fog all around them, from which the skeletal figure of Justice lurked within. He had figured if she can't choke her, she could choke her Stand. It was the only way he could win. Slowly, as he was trapping the Stand, he was lowered onto the floor. The corpses all around them shook and collapsed, no longer under Enya's influence. And the user was gasping desperately for the air she couldn't breathe.

"P-P-P-Please," she croaked, her face now blue. "S-S-Stop i-it…"

Now it was Joaquín's turn to scoff. "Why? So you could go after all of us again and return to your beloved master with our heads? I don't think so, _bruja_. Sure, you'll live, but you'll live with the knowledge that you failed. Both to your son and your master."

She couldn't take it anymore. She let out a pathetic croak and collapsed, falling unconscious as the last of the fog was inhaled. He wanted to see if he could harm it from within by using his _hamon_ , but even he thought that would be taking it to far.

"D-Damn, son," whispered Hol Horse, slowly approaching his boss's aide and toeing her with his boot. "No wonder she and Dio wanted you dead… Heh... If you could beat this hag on your own, I reckon you might stand a chance against that bastard."

That compliment sounded so sincere that, against his better judgment, he smiled at his former killer and said, "Thank you, Hol Horse." He looked back at the lady and sighed. "Such an incredible power. To think that Dio enlisted her… I have so many questions about her. How she knows about Stands to the point of influencing such a monster… How many more Stand users are working for him… And…" He swallowed a lump in his throat, voicing the most important question of all.

"What is Dio's Stand power?"

The cowboy scratched his forehead and shook his head. "He's never shown me. All I know is that it's the most powerful Stand of all, accordin' to him. He only lets the closest of his associates know. She might know, but… I'd advise against asking her. Cause if you somehow convince her, y'all might just end up givin' up on your crusade. Just a fair warnin'."

It felt like an empty threat, however, there _was_ weight to it. Dio's Stand has been a mystery to them all. Every night before sleeping, he always asked this question. Could they defeat it? Would they die trying? Unless they had a clue as to what his power is, they would be going in blind. And yet, here they had an opportunity to find out. If his grandfather's Hermit Purple worked the way it did, if it could project her thoughts for them, then the answers would be there.

"Thanks for the warning. But I'll take my chances. Now, if I were you, I'd high-tail it out of here. You're still on everyone's shit list. Including mine."

"Fair enough. See ya later, Joaquín Trejo!" He waved at him as he fled through the broken window. As he did so, he heard the sound of frantic steps descending from the stairs in the lobby and heading towards him. Turning back, he saw his friends and family look into the room with shock at the aftermath of the battle. Jean Pierre knelt and inspected the corpses as Joseph stepped over them to reach his grandson.

"What happened here," he asked slowly before his eyes fell upon Enya. "And what happened to her?"

"She's Dio's right-hand servant," explained Joaquín. "She controlled everyone in town with the fog. She even got a hold of me. But I beat her. Oh, and Hol Horse was here."

"Hol Horse," everyone but Joutarou exclaimed.

"Yeah, he left a few seconds ago. He was gonna try to kill us. But as it turned out, Enya, the _bruja_ , wanted him dead for abandoning her son."

"Her son," asked Jean Pierre before his eyes widened. "Wait, you mean… J. Geil is _her_ son?!" To show him he was serious, he went to the old lady and undid the bandage on her left hand. Underneath was a misshapen, right hand, which made the Frenchman gasp. " _Mon dieu..._ I'm lucky I didn't bump into her. And she seemed so nice earlier to me."

"I didn't want anyone fighting her. I know it was risky, but if we all tried going up against her, we'd all have been screwed."

Joseph smirked and patted his grandson's back. "Well, thank for thinking about us, Joaquín. Just be careful doing things like that next time. I'd hate to lose one of my grandsons. Now… what should we do about this hag?"

~+JO*JO+~

"Lord Dio, a second report."

"... Speak."

"Hol Horse has reported the defeat of Justice at the hands of Joaquín's Stand, Preciosa. Enya had been left alive and is in the Joestars' company."

"... Then my suspicions were correct… Her Stand was not at its full power…"

"Lovers is en route to their next destination... What is your next command?"

"... Finish her…"

~+JO*JO+~

The town they had left, as it turned out, was also a part of Justice. A simple mirage meant to fool them all, just like Lollipop Land but less enticing. It had turned a graveyard in the middle of the desert into a town filled with skeletons wearing guises of their former lives. It was little wonder as to why _hamon_ didn't work. They weren't the undead, but simply dead. The trap was a rather clever one, but in the end, they all managed to escape. There was, however, one thing they didn't account for.

Hol Horse had stolen their jeep.

A sheepish Joaquín chuckled and guiltily said, "I'll take the blame for that one, guys. I kinda let him go since he _did_ technically try to help."

But it wasn't too bad. The group had found a real town much later that day and bought themselves a horse-drawn carriage to use for their trip to Karachi. There, they would sail to Saudi Arabia, and by then, they should be ready to enter Egypt. Everything seemed to have been falling into place for them. All they could hope for was to avoid bumping into anymore Stand users along the way. With Enya defeated, he was certain Dio would be sending his top men after them.

Two mornings after that battle in the fake town, the group had arrived in the metropolis that was Karachi. It looked far more beautiful than some of the towns in India, and it was obvious that they did not suffer the same levels of poverty as Calcutta did. The streets were cleaner, and the denizens were not swarming them like flies. While that town was entertaining on its own, it was nice to be in a much calmer environment. And with their regal carriage, they didn't look too out of place.

"Hey, is anyone hungry," asked Joseph from the front, looking back at the others seated behind him.

"Now that you mention it," said Della after her stomach growled. "I am feeling a bit hungry. But not too much.

" _Agreed_ ," said Noriaki. " _Did you have anywhere in mind?_ "

"Indeed I do. Wait here, everyone." The carriage stopped, Joseph stepping off to go talk to a robed man in sunglasses tending to his food stand. Right in the middle was a delicious slab of meat being spit-roasting before their eyes. A doner kebab, which would be served shaved and on bread.

"Man, that actually looks really good," proclaimed Joaquín, his mouth already watering. "Kinda reminds me of the gyros I sometimes got from New York."

" _I had some before_ ," said Joutarou, turning to face his brother. " _I'm not too fond of the sauce they use on that._ "

" _Me neither. I usually just order mine without. Once I went to a Spanish store that sold them, for some reason, and they put_ pico de gallo _on it. It sounds really weird, but it was a lot better than you think._ " He looked over at his grandfather and noticed that he and the man were haggling over prices. " _Looks like someone's trying to get_ Abuelito _to pay more than he should._ "

Della shook her head in exasperation. "Do all countries do this to foreigners?"

" _Not that I know of_ ," said Noriaki. " _But apparently, it's standard practice here in the Middle Eastern countries. Vendors set their prices higher than what they would normally sell for in the west or in Japan. Foreigners can be easily exploited if they don't know the true value of whatever they're purchasing. Apparently, Joestar-san seems to have caught on to this and is trying to get our food for cheaper._ "

And with that, they both seemed to agree on a price. Joseph paid the man and he gave him their food. Although judging by his smug grin, he still ended up duping him. " _Not cheap enoug_ h," muttered Joutarou with slight disappointment.

" _It's no big deal, Jojo. We're all still getting our food._ "

But before they could be presented their food, Joseph stopped in his tracks and pointed into the carriage. "Hey, everyone," he exclaimed. "That hag's awake!"

Everyone spun to see Enya, awake and wide-eyed. She looked none too happy to be in their presence. "Oh good," happily proclaimed Joaquín, clapping his hands and turning completely around to face her. "You're finally up. You almost had me worried." His words were sincere, although there was an edge of snark in them. "You were out for two days after I beat your 'invincible' Stand. I almost thought you had died or something. Say, you want some food before we begin the… Enya?"

She wasn't looking at him, or at anyone else for that matter. She was shaking where she sat, sweat forming on her face. Looking closely at her, he noticed that her eyes weren't filled with any rage or disdain, but fear.

"H-Hey, what's wrong?" His snark was replaced with worry at the sheer terror she wore on her face. "We're not gonna kill you if that's what you're thinking."

But Enya didn't listen. She was backing up against the wall of the carriage, eyes looking straight ahead. "I-I-I said nothing," she hastily said in a panic. "W-Why have you come for me?! I would never reveal Lord Dio's secrets to anyone! E-Especially the Joestars!"

They all turned back to see that pleading was directed towards the meat vendor Joseph just bought food from. He stood silent for a moment, then slowly began to take off his shades and his hood. Before Joaquín could properly see what he looked like, all hell broke loose behind him. Enya let out a pitiful, gargled screech as fleshy tentacles whipped all about from her nose, mouth, ears, and even through her eye sockets. Blood spurted everywhere as she writhed in absolute pain.

He and the others fled the carriage as she slowly tumbled out onto her knees, suffering before their eyes. "Why," she moaned out in disbelief. "Why would you kill me?! I've done him no wrong!"

The man, who had disguised himself as a vendor, spoke in a cold, unapologetic voice. "You haven't. But that doesn't mean Lord Dio ever trusted you. He simply saw no further use for you after embarrassing him with your defeat. Enjoy your death, and rejoice that he's not the one killing you. As for the rest of you, you'll all be joining her soon."

"Enya," cried out Joaquín, upset that Dio was so cruel as to betray her. Sure, she was a wicked lady, but she did not deserve such a horrific death. He spun back at her killed and growled, "I'm gonna make you pay for-"

Joaquín's blood, and the whole world around him, froze. The chaos all around him faded to black. All he could see was the man who killed Enya taking off the robe he was wearing. Even though he had never seen those cruel blue eyes before, he instantly recognized him. He knew that youthful, handsome face, and that jet black wavy hair that fanned in the back to make him look like a vicious bird of prey.

For the first time in over a year, Joaquín Trejo stood face to face with his father's killer.


	22. Everything You Did

Ch. 22  
Everything You Did

DECEMBER 19TH, 1988  
09:42  
KARACHI, PAKISTAN

Over one year ago, Carlos Trejo walked among the living. He was a wonderful son and a loving father who cared for his family and all those around him. In life, he taught his pride and joy Joaquín everything he knew from driving to self-defense. And everything he taught came with a valuable lesson.

"It never hurts to put others ahead of yourself."

"The most important part about humility is accepting one's advantages over you."

"Keep your memory as sharp as an elephant's. Never forget little details."

But the most important lesson of all came to him on his birthday. "Shoot for the stars. Don't let any meteors hold you back."

That would be his last lesson, and the last thing he would hear from him, before Carlos was brutally killed by the man standing before his son. The two months that passed were filled with aching hearts and a yearning for justice either by the law or by Joaquín. Despite his father's words, he wanted to find that man and return the favor. He wanted to make him feel everything he felt and kill him. But no such luck came. The case was eventually dropped, his killer nowhere to be found.

Joaquín moved on from that day, although he promised himself that if he met him again, he would not hold back.

One year has passed, and he once again found himself face-to-face with his father's killer under similar circumstances. Someone was dying, and all he did was look on with a smug, triumphant smile and a cold expression. This man, who wore black pants and a matching long-sleeved shirt under a cream tunic, was more than likely responsible for whatever was happening to the poor old hag suffering her grisly fate.

"My name is Dan," he spoke out to them. "Steely Dan. My Stand is 'Lovers', named after the tarot card of the same name. And like dear Enya over there, you'll all get what's coming to you."

"How could you," shouted Della, just as disturbed as the others. "That lady's supposed to be your companion! How could you do this to her?!"

Enya's face continued to be assaulted from within by the writhing tentacles, becoming bloodier and more mangled by the minute. "It… can't be," she pitifully moaned through the blood. "Lord Dio… would never… do this to me…"

" _These tentacles aren't a part of his Stand_ ," said Noriaki in horrified realization. " _They're… They're real!_ "

"I live for… Lord Dio… We trusted in one another… He would never… plant a flesh bud in me…"

At the mention of "flesh bud", Joaquín's attention moved from Dan to the hag collapsing onto the ground. _How long did she have one? How the fuck did nobody notice before now?! We checked her temperature after I beat her! So how?!_ His thoughts were interrupted when Jean Pierre summoned his Silver Chariot and sliced the tentacles off, which disintegrated into the sun.

"I almost forgot about these things," admitted Joseph shakily. "They're… Those are made from Dio's cells…"

Dan leaned against a building and crossed his arms. "Indeed," he said unimpressed. "Very insightful. What you see before you is a flesh bud at its full maturity. Lord Dio ordered me to implant one after the murder of that inbred son of hers. She lost her mind, and the only thing that could calm her was a flesh bud. Naturally, this would come with consequences. First, her rage was too powerful to be calmed. And second, her power was dampened, leading to her swift defeat.

Noriaki and Jean Pierre cast each other knowing looks, having been under the influence of a flesh bud. They admitted that while they were under Dio's orders, their Stands were weaker than they were now. One could only imagine the struggle they would have faced if they hadn't been controlled.

"Poor little Enya. She lost the love of her son and the trust of her master. But here's the thing. Lord Dio never trusted her. He knew she would lose to you guys someday. And he knew you would spare her, just so you could get a peek at what he's capable of. After all, she _was_ the one who not only taught him about Stands, but helped awaken his as well. Just that knowledge alone is enough to sever all ties with such a pitiful woman. That's why I was sent to stop that from happening."

He looked down at the quivering, bloody mess on the floor and smirked again. "Face the facts, Enya. Lord Dio used you. You might've thought that, once he takes over the world, you'd be standing by his side as his guardian angel. But the truth is, you were destined to be cast into hell together with your son. You were a pawn, Enya. And you'll be dying with the knowledge that your dear master never cared for you. It's too bad you didn't realize this until he sent me to kill you."

His words were like ice, and it only fueled Joaquín's anger even more. Enya was already dying, and to hear the harsh truth in such a manner made his heart ache for her. _She didn't deserve any of this_ , he thought bitterly. _All she ever did was be loyal to that monster. Why doe she have to pay the price for it?! She didn't even tell us anything! We could have harmlessly found out about Dio's secret! She would have had a chance to live! And now he ruined it!_

Joseph did not seem to think that all hope was lost. In what was his only, desperate attempt, he fell to his knees beside the gasping, dying lady and began to plead. "Lady! Listen, I know you put all your trust in Dio, but he's not the man you thought he was! He's a monster with no regard for anyone besides himself! That's why I need your help! That's why I need to know! What's the secret to Dio's Stand?! I have to know! I have to defeat him! My daughter's life depends on us!

"I'm begging you! Please tell me what his Stand's power is!"

Everyone, save for the gasping Enya, stood silent. They all waited with bated breath, wondering if, in her final moment, she would do the right thing. She did not look at him, sunken eyes slowly becoming glassy as her life escaped her. Her breathing soon steadied, words trying to form from her trembling mouth. Joseph leaned down to hear what she would say.

"L-Lord... Di… o," she croaked feebly, "… trusts in… me… I would… _never_... forsake him…"

In the end, it was for naught. She had sworn undying loyalty to Dio. Even as she was dying, betrayed by her master, it never once wavered. With her last breath spent, her head lolled uselessly to the side, a rattling croak escaping her throat.

Enya Geil was dead.

"OH GOD," cried out an anguished Joseph. Everyone could feel his raw emotion. It was as if they had all failed, especially Joaquín. Another victim had fallen to such a cruel and heartless man, and he was helpless to stop it. He didn't even hate her. She was a grieving mother who, despite her morals, was only doing what she felt was right. It was an odd sympathy he felt, and he prayed she would find peace in the afterlife.

On the subject of Dan, he seemed rather proud of his work. The man had taken a seat at a tea shop next door to his fake stand, chuckling at their emotional distress. They all glared daggers at him, no doubt wanting to get back at him for his crime.

"So sad," he said with a smile, not meaning his words at all. "Such a sad old lady. Swayed by the dread that is Lord Dio's devilish charm, she trusted him until the end."

Della, in a low, harsh tone, growled to him, "And what makes you think he's not going to do the same thing to you? When you've outlived your purpose?"

"I'm just in this for the money. Sure, I'm loyal, but not enough to know his most intimate secrets. There's no threat of death over my head."

"You're wrong," said Joaquín, voice almost trembling in anger. He approached him as he took a sip of some beverage left behind, an indifferent look on his face when he looked up at the son of one of his victims. Joaquín's eyes bore holes into the killer, his body shaking like his voice. "Do you know who I am?"

"Joaquín Trejo," said Dan, a thin, segmented eyebrow raised and unperturbed by his intimidation. "Lord Dio mentioned you a few times. Why does that matter?"

"On September 16th, 1987, you were at a bar in Queens. Some guy bumped into you, and then you killed him. His son had come just in time to see him dead and you standing there like a fucking hunter admiring his kill. And you kept standing there with that same fucking smile as he grieved the loss of his father"

Della gasped from behind, realizing what was going on. "Y-You mean… This guy is the one that killed your dad," she said with shock.

"I did," asked Dan, confused as he looked up at him. It took him a moment for it to hit him, and when it did, his eyes widened in surprise. Joaquín expected to see him try to run away, fearful of his wrath. But he didn't fly. "So _you're_ Joaquín Trejo," he said slowly. "Well, I'll be. I never thought _you_ were the boy Lord Dio wanted to kill so badly. This actually might be interesting…"

"Oh, you don't know how interesting it is for me… Get the fuck up, you coward." He didn't, only taking a sip of his tea. When it became clear he wasn't going to respond, he slapped the cup out of the hand, shattering it upon hitting the ground. "I said… Get. The fuck. Up. This is only gonna go one way, so you might as well suck it up and face me."

"Oh, I will. But I can assure you that neither you nor your friends can _ever_ lay a finger on Steely Dan."

He literally ate his words. Joaquín threw a swift punch to his mouth and sent him flying into the tea shop window behind him. At the same time, there came a pained cry from his grandfather. He turned around to see Joseph flying onto his back as if he too had been punched. There was nothing there to attack, and yet the proof was there when he got up and spat out some blood.

 _What did he do to_ Abuelito _?_ _Is his Stand invisible? And… why did he get knocked back like this asshole?_

Said asshole sat up and looked annoyed for once, wiping the blood from his mouth. "You idiot," he spat. "I haven't finished explaining. You almost killed your grandfather... Now… think for a moment, kid. Do you think I would show my face just to kill Enya? I've been hired to kill you all as well."

Joseph steadied himself to his feet, clutching his pained jaw. "B-Bastard," he growled, moving his jaw tenderly as he spoke. "You said your Stand is named after 'The Lovers' card… What the hell is it?"

"Heh… The battle had already begun, Mr. Joestar."

Everyone stood on guard, looking around for any signs of a Stand. But there was nothing; no disturbances in the air, no unusual noises… Not being able to see a Stand while it was at work was always nerve-wracking. They had no problem fighting them, but it did not make the experience any better.

"Such idiots. Even if you try looking for my Stand, it's not going to be immediately visible…" He turned his attention to a hapless boy, sweeping up some of the debris from the broken shop. "Hey, kid." He flashed them the money Joseph paid him earlier for the now-forgotten food. "I'll pay you to hit my leg with your broom as hard as you can."

He looked confused, almost scared as he was asked to harm this stranger. But when Dan barked, "Hit me!", he felt as if he had no choice. The boy swung straight into his leg, which did not seem to phase him. Almost immediately, Joseph's leg curved as if it were hit, making him bark out in pain.

"W-What's going on, _Monsieur_ Joestar," asked a confused Jean Pierre.

"I-It hurts, said Joseph, holding his head in equal confusion. "I don't know why but it just hurts so much!"

"Have none of you figured it out," Dan asked smugly. "My Stand has already entered your body. After offing little Enya, it slipped into your ear and into the back of your brain."

The last thing anyone would have wanted to deal with during their adventure was a Stand entering them from the inside. Noriaki's Hierophant Green is capable of that, but it controlled its host. Here, there was something inside Joaquín's grandfather's brain that was bringing him pain each time its user was struck.

"Allow me to explain, then. Stands are linked to the body. Hurt the Stand, you hurt their user. The same is also true. Scar a body, perhaps take a limb, and the Stand will also be scarred. But Lovers twists this to its advantage. Hurt me even just a little, and at the same time in that brain of yours, my Stand will react violently to my pain and suffering. It'll manipulate your pain receptors to the same place I was struck and deliver the same pain several times over.

"In other words, none of you can lay a finger on me.

"Oh, and as an added bonus, I took the liberty of bringing more than one of Lord Dio's flesh buds with Lovers. And its growing one in your brain right now, Joseph. And you'll end up the same way Enya has: killed from the inside out."

 _This bastard's a smart one_ , thought Joaquín furiously. _Not only did he guarantee his own safety by linking his pain with_ Abuelito's _, but he also put a flesh bud directly in his brain… Fuck…. This is really bad._

The child who hit Dan struck him again, this time in the back of his leg. Joseph almost collapsed this time. Perhaps he thought he would get paid for helping him out again. His smile certainly seemed to suggest it. But the killer held no smile. He turned to the boy and muttered, "Did I tell you to hit me a second time? You little brat." And his fist collided straight with his face, knocking him straight across the road.

"You monster," cried out Della, who ran over to inspect the boy. Dan's sights returned to the group, and it was clear by the cold in his eyes that he was serious.

"I will say this," he told them, frowning bitterly. "My Stand is weak. It can't even lift a single strand of hair. It's one of the weakest Stand's in existence. But…"The frown didn't last long before his smile returned. "I don't really need power to kill anyone. If I ended up in a traffic accident, hit with a baseball, or even take a tumble, you, Mr. Joestar, are going to receive twice the damage my body takes. What I feel, you feel."

To further prove his point, he cracked his knuckles. Joseph looked at his left hand with incredulous disbelief. They twitched, and a popping sound could be heard from the metal fingers. "M-My prosthetic hand," he gasped. "It's like I could feel… No! There's no feeling in this hand! This is like I have my old hand back! It's like a phantom pain!"

"I'll give it… a little over ten minutes… before that flesh bud matures. Then," he gave an aside jerk of the head to the bloodied corpse of Enya, "you'll end up just like that useless mummy."

"THAT'S IT," roared Joaquín, tired of him running his mouth. He stormed at him before grabbing him by his collar, both his own and Preciosa's fists ready to strike. But before he could even break his face, he was restrained by two pairs of arms He struggled to break free, but the grip they had was keeping him back. "Let me go!"

"Joaquín, don't do it," desperately pleaded Jean Pierre as he struggled to hold him back.

" _Don't act so reckless,_ niisan," grunted Joutarou with an anxious edge, his hold more secure. " _He's only egging you on!_ "

"Let me go!" He didn't want to listen. His rage has practically blinded him. All he wanted to do was to be let go so he could unleash a year's worth of pain and sorrow on the assassin. But he couldn't. "Let me go, goddamnit! Just let me get one punch in! Just one! He won't even feel a thing!"

Dan looked as if he was having fun with this explosion. "Won't even feel a thing," he parroted back. "Well, isn't that a wonderful idea?" He then leaned in and poked his own cheek.

"Here. Come on. You can strike anywhere in an instant. I know how that Stand of yours works. Right here. Right on my face. Go on, try it. I want to see what happens." He opened up his undershirt to reveal his chest. "Or how about a hole in my chest?" He then lifted up a rather weighty rock from nearby. "Or how about bashing my head in with a stone? Maybe without your Stand?"

The grip on his arms slackened, allowing him to break free and grip Dan's collar again. "I mean it, Dan," he said in a low, murderous tone, as he reared back with both fist and Stand again. This time, Preciosa's fist was held back, and by a lighter but determined hold as opposed to his brother and Jean Pierre.

"JOAQUÍN, NO!"

 _Della…_

It was All My Love who held him back. His gaze tore from Dan and to his girlfriend, face red and in tears. Even through his near-blinding rage, he could see just how hurt and concerned she was seeing her lover so emotionally compromised. And it pained him more than his anger.

"J-Jojo," she whimpered. "Please… D-Don't do it… You... You saw how his power w-worked… Mr. J-Joestar… Your own f-flesh and b-blood… He could _die_ if you kill this man… I know how m-much you w-want him dead, but s-set aside your revenge… We need to d-deal with his S-Stand first... _Please_ , I'm begging you, Jojo…"

Joaquín may hate Dan, but he hated being the reason Della would cry even more. And on top of that, she was pleading. She had never done this before, and it made him feel worse. He knew she had a point, even if he did want to kill him. To defeat him, they needed to find a way to get Lovers out of Joseph's brain. He needed to control himself. For her, and for his grandfather, he slowly calmed himself down.

But in that moment of calm, he was punched straight in the stomach. He dropped to his knees before Dan, Della gasping and calling back her Stand. "What a tender little moment," sneered the killer. "It's too bad it just might be your last. Because once your grandfather's dead, you're next. You'll be joining your daddy soon." Through wavering eyes, he could see him pick up a large rock and immediately try to attack his face. He shielded himself in time, his arms taking the damage.

There was no retaliation.

As he slowly got to his feet, he turned to his friends and muttered, "Y-You guys need to get out of here… Get as far from us as possible… You'll only get hurt more… Go…" He hoped that they would understand what he was saying. With distance, they can work uninterrupted to deal with Lovers. Thankfully, they seemed to understand. With reassuring nods, Della and Joutarou led Joseph and the others running away from the two.

Dan watched them go with a humored smirk. "I know what you're doing," he scoffed. "You think that, just because the farther away he is from me, the weaker my Stand power becomes, right? Well, you're wrong. I don't suffer from that disadvantage. Lovers may be weak, but once it's inside someone, I can still use it as efficiently even if it's over hundreds of kilometers away."

 _So it's long-distance_ , thought Joaquín, watching his friends slowly disappear. _I had a feeling. Still, they don't have to worry about this bastard doing anything, especially with me around to keep him in check… Though I think that means I might have to take some abuse… It'll be worth it just to kill this prick once and for-_

"Hey, I'm talking to you," interrupted Dan with a grab of his shirt collar, annoyed that he wasn't paying attention to him. "What're you looking off in the distance for! Turn around, punk!"

His eyes fell on Dan's grip, then to him. He flashed him a small grin. "Sounds like you're getting annoyed."

"So, what's _your_ plan?" Dan almost got into his face, the smile returning. "Going to follow me until your grandfather dies?"

He gave him no answer, but Joaquín's glare confirmed just what he was going to do.

"I see." He chuckled and reached into Joaquín's pocket. "Well, in that case, I hope you don't mind me borrowing a few things." There wasn't anything much in his pockets except for the leather wallet he pulled out. Within were his credit card, some loose bills, forms of ID, and several pictures. All he took from there were the bills (several twenties and fifties). "This ought to do… I think I'll go around town and see what I can find." And so Dan walked off, trailed by his target like a shadow.

In all his life, Joaquín never felt more humiliated having to do whatever someone else said. Especially from a man who could easily kill another member of his family. Right from the start, he was forced to demean himself just to protect his grandfather. When they had reached a small, stream with a nearby bridge, he was asked to become his bridge. At first, he didn't do it, but when it became clear that Dan would still hurt himself to get his point across, he was left with no other choice.

"Well don't you make a wonderful bridge," he teased, stepping all over Joaquín's back and taking his time to cross. "Don't you? Don't you, don't you, don't you?"

It did not stop there. Sometime after, as they made their way through town, he was tasked to scratching Dan's back. He knew that somewhere out there, his grandfather would have felt this. But he had to wonder… _If_ Abulelito _can feel twice the sensations Dan could, would this hurt or tickle him?_ It didn't matter, so long as he restrained himself from digging his nails in. And he very much wanted to give him a bit of pain.

After this, he noticed Dan look rather thoughtful, as if something happened that he wasn't too fond of. No doubt it was his friends, having managed to find a solution to the problem and working to get to it. In Joaquín's head, he could see Hierophant Green inside his grandfather's body, perhaps smaller than usual, traveling along his brain to fight Lovers. This had to be what they were doing. It had to.

Dan's annoyance faded after a moment and they continued on their way. They stopped in no stores, although the assassin did peek into several clothing stores for men. "I've been meaning to get some new jackets," he mussed as they stopped at the entrance to one of them, several racks of clothes already outside for display. He ran his fingers over one of them and turned back to Joaquín with a knowing smile. "How does denim sound? I lost mine a while back."

"Killable," he grunted back, knowing he was talking about what he wore during his father's murder. "And it makes you look like a douchebag. More than you already are."

The insult yielded no response. However, he would pay for this. After they left that area, Dan stopped to rest on a small, stone block. "It's been a while since I've had my shoes shined," he told Joaquín as he took out a rag for him. "Give them a good polish. I want them to be mirror clean. And you better get to it. You're on borrowed time, you know."

He didn't need the reminder of him and his group's situation. Resigning himself again to humiliation, he spat on the brown leather shoes and began to buff them. He could have left the shoes as was, but he couldn't. Not while his friends were undoubtedly close to saving Joseph.

"You know," said Dan idly, "I'm surprised you're not asking me any questions. True, I don't know what his Stand is capable of or what it is he's plotting aside from your death, but I do know a few little nuggets of information you'd certainly enjoy.

Joaquín huffed, not looking up at him. "Like you'd tell me."

" _Au contraire_ , I know somethings here and there. Harmless things that Lord Dio wouldn't mind me sharing."

"Like?"

"Well, I'm sure you know this by now, but he's looking for Stand users. What kind, I don't know. But each one he has found belonged to some pretty sinful people. Killers, thieves, sadists. Like me. Of course, there are those with weak hearts, but great potential. Some of your friends are some pretty good examples. Anyway, those who swear loyalty to him only really do it for the money. And he has plenty. It's weird, but Dio doesn't care about riches. Just you folks, the Joestars. Why is that?"

"Ancestral feud," he said shortly. "He and my great-great-grandfather Jonathan were rivals. He just wants to settle the score. Though it's like you said, he wants more than that."

"Clearly. He's so desperate to kill you that, when she was alive, he made Enya find the blackest of hearts and turn them into Stand users."

There was a faltering in Joaquín's shining. He had never once heard that, not even from those who boasted about their power. He looked up at Dan with a confused gaze and muttered a flat, "What?"

"Oh, you didn't know? Well, not all of us are natural-born Stand users. I am, but some others like Dark Blue Moon, Far Away Eyes and even Yellow Temperance were just normal people back then. It wasn't until Enya found them that they gained their powers. And man, were they thrilled. It was like a whole new world opened up for them."

 _Unnatural Stand users._ He repeated these words in his head for a moment before coming to his next question. "So.. Dio isn't one either?"

"Good question. I personally don't think so. But it doesn't really matter whether he was or not. It won't help you get any closer to defeating him."

Perhaps not. But it did remind him of something. That bizarre conversation he had with Jean Pierre back in China. France was gripped with "a plague of Stand users who were never born with a Stand". And he had set out to investigate it before his run-in with Dio. Was that all because of Dio? What did Enya know about them before her demise? It was too late to know now, but that didn't mean the answers were lost forever. There had to be one.

"It's kind of funny." Joaquín switched shoes, deeming the one he finished bright enough. "Before last year, none of my family had Stands. I guess if Dio was really born with one, I wouldn't have Preciosa to kick your ass."

"Hm… It doesn't matter. Besides, a year's worth of experience is nothing compared to your entire life. I've had Lovers with me since I was a little boy. And from the moment it awakened, I used it to cause mischief and mayhem on everyone who crossed me. I won fights and killed many just by sneaking into their brain, just like with Joseph. And just like with your father."

There was a small silence before Joaquín spoke. "The eyewitnesses said it was one-sided... And J. Geil told me you made my father beg..."

At the mention of the murdered son of Enya, Dan let out a mirthless laugh. "That retard really must have gotten under your skin if you believed _him_ ," he said between laughs. "He never begged. To be honest, he didn't get a chance to. I had Lovers slip into him and he pretty much killed himself. He died on his feet, and I didn't even have to lift a finger."

So now he knew how his father died. He wasn't just brutally beaten by this man, but beaten by his Stand. Another victim to Lovers. He did not feel better knowing his father fought to his last breath against a Stand. All he felt was more anger. He wanted to stand up and strangle Dan until he turned purple. But he had to keep his rage in check. _For_ Abuelito _... For Della..._

Dan continued to talk as his shoes were shined. "You know, being in New York around that time, I barely killed anyone. Just two people. Your father and this little old lady. Killing Enya earlier sort of reminded me of her. She bumped into me outside of a supermarket and made me spill coffee all over myself. Apparently, it was my fault, according to her cursing. The nerve… At first, I was going to beat myself up once I had Lovers inside of her…

"... but then I found out she had cancer, and I took advantage of that."

Everything froze again. In the recesses of Joaquín's mind, a distant memory began to play. It was something so small that he had shrugged off as unimportant. His _abuelita_ had returned one day before she succumbed to her cancer, complaining about some young man bumping into her and knocking his coffee everywhere. There were flecks of it all over her new blouse.

The next day, she had become weaker due to her cancer.

It wasn't just cancer that killed her...

"Nice work down there," complimented Dan, looking over at his now-shiny shoes. He actually sounded impressed. "I think you'd make a killing shining shoes in New York. But it's too bad you won't make it back there after this. You're still a dead man."

"So are you," whispered Joaquín.

"Beg pardon?

"You heard me, _cabrón_." He got to his feet and glared at the man who took his family away from him. "When this is over, I'll leave nothing behind of you."

Dan wasn't bothered by his threat, seemingly confident in his own impending victory. He said nothing else as he got up and walked, although he was a considerable distance from Joaquín. _That's right, keep your distance from me_ , he thought, fists clenched to the point where he would bleed through his gloves. _You know the first chance I get, I'm going to murder you. You filthy piece of shit…_

They kept walking for a good distance until Dan decided to enter a jewelry store. Within the fancy store were glass cases protecting beautifully crafted jewelry set with a myriad of colorful stones. And it was obvious what Joaquín would be asked to do next.

"These are such lovely bangles," he said admiringly, eyes skimming through the displays. They soon fell on a gold bracelet set with pearls all over. "Especially this one. A high-class brand and incredible design… And what beautiful pearls… You'll rarely ever find a nameless gem in a place like this. I bet you could make that pretty thing you call your girlfriend fall more in love with you if you got her this as a present."

He received no answer. Dan then silently pointed to a grate on top of the case and whispered, "You see those gaps? If you use your Stand, you could slide that bangle out of there easily. Go on. It's easy pickings."

Joaquín did not answer him again. He didn't even look at him. But he made sure that Dan would see the quiet anger on his face. Annoyed, Dan got in his ear and hissed, "I told you. To steal. It. And quickly… Or else I'll break this glass and steal it myself. I'll survive the beating the owners give me, but your grandfather wouldn't. Now do it! The shopkeeper's looking away!"

"No," Joaquín finally said.

"Excuse me? You don't have any say in the matter! Your grandfather's life is on the line you punk! You wanna save him, then steal!"

"The only thing I'm stealing today is your life. You pissed me the fuck off, Dan. And right now, I'm at my utmost limit. You wanna steal it, go right ahead."

He clearly pissed him off, for one the assassin's eyes twitched and his teeth were clenched. He then punched through the case, shattering the glass, and grabbed the bracelet in question. An alarm went off, and the shopkeeper, along with several burly men barreling out from the back, approached Dan with every intent on hurting the thief. Before one of them was able to strike him with his bat, Joaquín grabbed it and stopped him in his tracks.

"Forgive me for the rudeness," he apologized coldly, "but if anyone's gonna kick his ass, it's gonna be me. Now BACK OFF!" His free hand blazed with _hamon_ , which he sent right into the bat-wielding arm. He then let go, and the man uncontrollably swung at his partners, knocking them all down. When he looked between them and Joaquín, he received another dose of _hamon_ in the form of a chop to the neck, immediately knocking him unconscious.

"W-What did you do," shouted a furious Dan. "They were supposed to beat me up! Or at least you!"

"It didn't matter who they were going after," spat Joaquín. "I would have still incapacitated them. While my Stand could do the job, I'm a bit pissed off to control Preciosa properly without going into another blind rage. Lucky for me I have _hamon_. You know all about that thanks to Dio, right?"

"You fucking son of a bitch! It doesn't matter anyway! Your grandfather has less than a minute to live now! And your stupid friends, who shrank their Stands to try and get Lovers out, they will fail! All of them!"

He scoffed at how certain he was in his victory. "You know, there's an old quote I remember from a book I read in high school that fits this situation. 'If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat.' Sun Tzu wrote that. In other words, you underestimate what my friends and I are capable of doing. And because of that, you will lose."

Dan was about to shout back at him but was cut off when his forehead split open suddenly in a burst of blood. It was obvious what happened. "Well, well, well… Looks like someone hurt the Stand… Now it's time to punish its user…"

With his grandfather no longer at risk of pain, he could finally unleash his rage against his family's killer. Dan seemed to realize this too, for he screamed in fear and ran out of the shop. He didn't go too far, for Joaquín had stepped out and reached out with Preciosa, grabbing him by his hair. The assassin's bravado was gone, and in its place was a floundering, panicking man afraid of what was to come.

"L-Let me go," pleaded Dan. "I-I admit defeat! I'm calling back Lovers! I-I'm sorry!" When Preciosa let him go, he got onto his knees and licked at Joaquín's shoes as he groveled. "Y-You can d-do whatever you want! You can beat me up! You can rip my ears off Just d-don't kill me, please!"

"Don't kill you," asked Joaquín in a cold whisper, right before kicking Dan off his shoe. "After everything you did, you expect me to just spare you? Just like that? No. You're beyond the point of sparing. You fucked up the moment you murdered my father. Nothing has been the same since that day. Neither I or my grandmother were able to sleep soundly for months, knowing you were running free. But out of respect for my father, I decided not to pursue you myself.

"... I wish I did… My grandmother might have lived longer…"

"W-What're you talking about," asked the whimpering assassin, confused by his statement. It took a moment, but he finally understood, and his eyes widened in absolute terror. "N-No… Don't tell me… That old lady was…"

"The one who you killed in New York, the little lady who spilled coffee on you… That was my grandmother. And you took her life over something so petty as that." He slowly approached him, fists clenched and his gaze both dark and blazing. His prey backed away on his knees before stumbling on his butt. "You royally fucked up. Both my father and my grandmother are dead because of you… There is no way I could ever forgive a monster like you."

As he raised his fit to deliver the most brutal beat down he would ever give, his ears picked up a small noise. Or rather, Preciosa did. His Stand's fingers shot out and caught something in them. With his incredible, telescopic vision, he could make out the tiny shape of a red, crustaceous mite. "So this is Lovers…" He gave it an experimental squeeze, causing Dan to scream as one of his arms and legs twist in pain. "You're a horrible liar, you know that?"

Tears now streamed from his eyes. He looked absolutely pathetic. "S-STOP," he shrieked. "I MEAN IT THIS TIME! I can't fight anymore! My arm and leg are broken! I-I'll disappear! I'll disappear forever! I'll go to the ends of the Earth where you won't hear from me again! I'll imprison myself on an island! I won't kill again! Oh god, let me go!"

"Jojo, wait," called out a familiar female voice. He and his Stand, who dropped Lovers, turned to see a frantic Della running towards them. "We got Lovers out! But he's-"

"He's not gonna hurt anyone," interrupted Joaquín. "Not anymore. I caught it and made sure his user can't use it again."

"I beg to DIFFER!" Their attention turned to Dan, now shakily standing and his left arm dangling and broken. In his right was a switchblade as sharp as his smile. "You idiot! I was waiting for this moment! The moment your girlfriend came and you let go of Lovers, I sent it straight into her ear! Ha ha ha ha ha! Just try and hit me now! You'll only end up killing your beloved girlfriend! And I know you wouldn't… wouldn't…" His smile slowly drooped to a scowl. "Why aren't you freaking out?!"

This entire time, neither of them were disturbed about his sudden trick. In fact, it was almost anticipated. "You _really_ underestimated us. I knew someone would be coming back. And I knew whoever it was wasn't gonna let you control one of our brains like you did to _Abuelito_. You're so predictable it's not even funny, Dan." To prove her boyfriend's words, a small bubble slipped out from one of Della's ears. It might have been too small to see, but trapped inside was none other than Lovers.

With no more moves left to play, Dan fell to his knees, dropped the knife and fearfully cried out, "PLEASE, FORGIVE ME!"

"Forgive you," asked Joaquín dangerously before he raised his voice. "FORGIVE YOU?! How dare you ask me for forgiveness! There is nothing you can do or say that would ever make me change my mind! You want to ask someone for forgiveness, ask Enya Geil! Ask my grandmother! Ask my father! But not me! Letting you live was never an option with me! Your fate was sealed the moment I set my eyes on you, bastard!"

"D-Dio paid me in advance... I'll g-give it all to you…"

Joaquín merely shook his head in disgust. " _Por dios_ … You're the lowest scumbag in history… What you owe me…

"... can only be paid IN BLOOD!"

And everything spilled over. All of his rage, all of his hatred, and all of his pain... it all bled into the rapid, brutal onslaught that was his and Preciosa's fists.

" _¡TOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMA!_ "

Those were for Enya Geil.

" _¡TOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMA!_ "

Those were for Lupe Trejo.

"¡TOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMATOMA!"

Those were for Carlos Trejo. And at this point, Preciosa had stepped back so that it was only Joaquín whose fists were pummeling the jerking, bleeding mess that was the so-called "Steely" Dan. He didn't know how long it lasted, nor did he care. A year's worth of pain laid in every single strike.

With the last of his all his raw, explosive emotions, both his and Preciosa's fist, enveloped in one another, slammed straight into his face. The force of the punch was enough to not only blow his head off but to send the useless body crashing into a building.

Silence rang in the air, the last echo of his "¡TOMA!" fading into the air. Joaquín was rooted where he stood, fists sore and shaking, his throat ragged, and his heart hammering. He had done it. He had avenged the lives of his fallen family members. And he felt…

At peace.

With the deed finally done, he fell to his knees and sobbed. Della was there to catch him and keep her boyfriend in her caring embrace. And he graciously returned it. For his heart was finally lifted of the sadness and hatred that lingered within from the loss of his family. There was no longer any pain, and he made it known in his cries that he was overjoyed.

Joaquín kept his year-long promise.

His family could finally rest in peace.

~ENYA GEIL (1890-1988): RIP

~STEELY DAN (1960-1988): RIP~


	23. Let The Four Winds Blow

Ch. 23  
Let The Four Winds Blow

DECEMBER 23RD, 1988  
12:51  
ABU DHABI, UNITED ARAB EMIRATES

It had been a day since they arrived in the Emirates. Pakistan felt like a memory now, one that Joaquín had mercifully put behind. In the time afterwards, when they traveled the Gulf of Oman, he felt extremely emotionally drained. The battle with Steely Dan had taken a toll on him, making him question if he was no better than him or any of Dio's men. Not to mention how dangerous his anger was. He did not want to end up hurting or endangering anyone else the way he did before because of that.

"But I know you would never do that," said Della reassuringly one night aboard the boat traveling from Pakistan. "You're a passionate individual, Jojo. You're not like those bastards Dio sends after us at all. You don't kill or fight just for the heck of it, but because you want to protect us. That's why you get so angry. It's reckless, I know, but it shows that you love us, and you'd never give up on us. Just like I'd never give up on you.

"Jojo, promise me that no matter what happens, never stop fighting. Even when things look bleak, or when our spirits have been crushed, never, for a second, lower your fists."

Joaquín promised her that night. And thanks to her, and everyone else, he snapped out of his emotional low and felt his resolve renew. He entered the Emirates refreshed and ready for the next path in their journey. And at that moment, it was in a rather normal car driving through a rather quiet neighborhood of expensive houses. It was quite a shock from the usual sight of rustic housing they've seen in India.

"This country is so bizarre," mused Jean Pierre as he looked out the window. "Is every house down here a mansion? They all have such lovely flowers blooming in their yards, and not a single one is in shambles."

"Homes like these would go for thirty to forty billion yen in Japan," said Joseph beside him. "But I suppose this is what life's now like for the ordinary person in this country. Around twenty years ago, this place was nothing but a desert. But thanks to the huge profits reaped in during the oil shock, it's grown into a prestigious city. It's almost like a dream come true."

"These guys must feel pretty lucky," said an impressed Joaquín as he looked out the window at the passing homes. And as he did, he noticed Noriaki beside him looking nervously out the back window. " _Hey, Noriaki, what's wrong? You feel like we're being tailed?_ "

He didn't look away when he spoke. " _No… It's just that, this is such a nice place, and I could tell if someone's following us… But it's for that reason that I can't help but keep looking back to see, just in case…_ "

"Hmph, I can't blame you," said Jean Pierre from the driver's seat. "With all these constant Stand attacks, I'm a bit on edge myself.

"A little break from all these fights does sound nice," admitted Della, leaning back against her boyfriend. "Besides, Christmas is coming up soon. It'd be nice to spend it together without someone trying to kill us."

Joseph laughed heartily at this, making himself almost sound like Santa Claus himself. "I would like that too, Della," he admitted, looking back at her and his grandchildren. "Especially with the company we have. Who knows, maybe Dio might throw us a bone. But as much as Christmas sounds good, we should still be prepared for anything. We're still on a mission. Er, mind handing me the map?" She did so, and after unfolding it, he cleared his throat to get their attention.

"Now, I was thinking about our next route from here. About a hundred kilometers from here is a village called Yarpline. If we take a car there, it would take about two days due to the desert and rocky mountains making the road rough for us. It's for that very reason the villagers travel from there via Cessna. So once we get there, we buy ourselves a Cessna and then travel through the Arabian Desert."

"Wait, what's a Cessna," asked Joaquín, never hearing that word before.

"It's a type of personal monoplane."

At the mention of planes, his eyes widened in fright. "Oh, _hell_ no! I'm not getting on another one of those with you at the helm! No fucking way!"

"Will you relax?" Joseph was rather offended that he had to be reminded of his sketchy flight history. "We're not doing that until later. And it's a personal plane. Nobody else but us. I've been avoiding using anything else on the off chance another Stand user boards with us and puts innocent lives at risk. I don't want a repeat of Japan any more than you all do. Besides, with a Cessna, we'll be able to get to where we need to be a lot quicker.

"But as I said, that's later. We need to get to Yarpline first. And we'll be doing that with camels. If we take some camels with us, the trip should last one day."

Everyone turned to one another as if they had heard incorrectly. Jean Pierre was the first to speak. "Camels? I get a Cessna, but camels? Have you _ever_ ridden a camel in your life?"

With a chuckle and a smug grin, Joseph looked over at his partner and said, "Have I ever ride a camel… Just leave it to Joseph Joestar. If anyone can do anything, it's me. Just relax and I'll show you how it's done."

 _Abuelito, why do you always let your ego get the best of you..? I'm getting the feeling you have no idea what you're getting us into..._

~+JO*JO+~

He most certainly did not.

They had bought six camels for each of them, and they were all as majestic as they were very smelly. And while Jean Pierre complained about the stench, Joseph tried vainly to teach them how to mount them. The one he had chosen to demonstrate with was stubborn, and would not lower itself to be mounted. It was hard to tell if Joaquín's grandfather was doing it wrong or it just wouldn't cooperate. More than likely that former, given what he had to say when questioned about his methods.

"I watched that old movie _Laurence of Arabia_ three times," he told them, still oozing with his usual confidence. "Of course I know how what I'm doing! Although I think I slept through it twice."

They all gaped in shock at him. Even the camel was exasperated, deciding to slobber all over his handler. Dismissing the spit as an "excellent source of sunscreen", he finally managed to get the camel down and climb aboard. He then explained to them how a camel's stride was different than a horse's, moving both front and hind legs on one side as opposed to opposite sides. They would have to ride in time with the odd, swaying rhythm so as not to fall off.

Which Joseph did in spectacular fashion.

"Let's get a move on, then," he declared, back on his camel and all roughed up from the fall. "The northwest awaits!"

And with the group finally settling onto their rickety camels, they all departed towards the desert. It was a lot more peaceful than they thought. Being that it was winter, the air felt cool, and the sun did not feel as hot as it should. It didn't stop them from sweating, however, which called for some sunscreen. Despite how boring it might have felt traversing the massive desert landscape, they treated it like any other day throughout their journey.

But eventually, like the palm leaves they used to wipe their tracks, the day was beginning to drag. They all stood quiet for hours on end, not taking a break except to use the bathroom once or twice. The desert felt as if it stretched on forever. And it was hot. _But the minute night falls, it's gonna be freezing cold_ , thought Joaquín, who was not looking forward to the sudden drop in temperature later. He turned to look at the others and noticed Noriaki was glancing behind himself again. " _Hey, you okay bud_ ," he asked.

" _I am_ ," he responded slowly, this time looking back at him. " _I just have this feeling that we actually_ are _being followed this time._ "

Everyone looked behind them, and like it was in the front, there was just desert as far as the eye could see. Jean Pierre dismissively said, "You're just nervous, Kakyouin. Besides, we've been covering our tracks the whole time. If anyone really _was_ following us, we'd see them from tens of kilometers away."

Joutarou shook his head. "Actually, I've been feeling the same thing for quite a while now."

"You still have those binoculars," asked Joseph. "Take a look for us, will you?" The younger of his grandchildren nodded and took out a pair of binoculars, Star Platinum phasing in to look through them. Joaquín could tell that he was using his Stand's telescopic vision, so similar to Preciosa's, to look farther than the binoculars could with the naked eye. It was quite a handy ability. He looked all around for a minute before putting it away with a stoic face.

"Anything out of the ordinary?"

"Nothing I can't see," answered Joutarou. "However, I don't doubt something strange is going on… I don't know what, though…"

"Maybe it's an invisible Stand user," suggested Della. "Jojo fought someone like that back in Japan, so maybe someone else is using a similar ability."

"Unlikely. Dio doesn't feel like the type of person who would send the same person a second time after they failed. Hol Horse doesn't count. From what _niisan_ said, it sounded as if he was hunting us on his own."

"Hey, can we get a move on," called out Jean Pierre, taking a swig from his canteen. "I want to get those tents up soon. The sun looks like it just might set soon." He glanced at his pocket thermometer for a moment before his eyes widened. " _Mon dieu_ , it's hot! Look at this! It's 50°C!"

 _Celsius... God, I hate celsius..._ But he was smart enough to know that 50°C was very hot when converted to Fahrenheit. And if he used the conversion formula (which he once dismissed as useless in his adult life), he would get…

 _122°F..?_

"But that's impossible," said Joaquín, knowing how foolish he sounded. "It can't be _that_ hot at this time of day!"

Joseph pulled out his pocket watch and said, "Well, this is the Arabian Desert. It's _supposed_ to be this hot, even around s- Huh?!" He looked closer at the time, then turned back to the others. "Joutarou! What time do you have on your watch?!"

"It's 8:10," he replied after nonchalantly looking at his expensive wristwatch, only for his eyes to flash upon the realization.

"8:10?! PM?! I-I don't believe this! We've been traveling since the afternoon! So why the hell hasn't the sun set!"

He wasn't wrong. When they looked above, they could see the scorching hot sun hanging suspended in the air. And they did it without wincing. Whenever someone looked at the sun, the light would be so bright that it would not only hurt their vision but sometimes cause them to sneeze. At least for Joaquín. But when he looked up at this celestial body, there was no blinding or sneezing. It was just there. What they beheld was no normal sun.

" _C'est impossible_ ," exclaimed Jean Pierre. "The thermometer just jumped up to by ten degrees! A-And look at the sun! It's not sinking at all! I-It's rising!" Upon closer inspection, they noticed that he was right. The "sun" was slowly rising into the air, casting the sky into a deadly orange. And on top of that, it was large. It felt as if it were closer than it should be. Joaquín knew exactly what the Frenchman was going to say next.

"Don't tell me… The sun itself is… a Stand?!"

"Everybody get to some shade," shouted Joaquín, stopping his camel and running towards some nearby rocks. As he pressed himself behind it in what little shadow was cast, the others had followed suit and hid as well. "Son of a bitch… You guys were right… We're in the middle of the desert, and someone's followed us with their Stand. And it had to take the worst fucking form! Is Dio really that crazy prepared?!"

"What a mess… I think this was the user's plan the whole time… To use that blasted Stand to turn us into roast octopi for the rest of the day… No, for the rest of the night..!"

"It won't even take that long," muttered Joseph, looking over to see that their camels were uncomfortably shifting in place. "You can't even stay over 30 minutes in a sauna before it turns dangerous."

"We need to figure out how to beat it soon," exclaimed Della, looking in fear at the thermometer in Jean Pierre's hand. "The temperature just rose to 70°C! That's... That's 158°F! We can't last that long! We gotta find out whether it's near or far and attack from there! But more importantly, we gotta find that user and take him out!"

"You're right… They should be somewhere close by… We have to find them… Our enemy is more than likely hiding so they wouldn't be caught trailing us. And given that we know we're being attacked, they're probably not going to be moving for a while."

"H-hang on," interjected Jean Pierre. "What if this Stand is like Lovers back from Pakistan? That it could be used from a long distance?"

Joseph shook his head, sweat dripping from his face and beard. "I thought so too, but remotely-controlled Stands like that tend to have less power. But this 'sun's' energy is radiating so powerfully that the user _has_ to be nearby!"

And how powerful it was. A nearby, dormant scorpion crumbled to pieces under the rays of the sun. One of the camels became so exhausted from the heat that it simply dropped. It was like that snow scene in _The Empire Strikes Back_ where Han Solo's mount dropped dead from the cold, only with heat. Just thinking about that sent an uncomfortable, ironic chill down Joaquín's spine. _Della's got a point_. _We've gotta hurry and find this Stand user._

"Niisan _, what's wrong_ ," asked Joutarou worriedly. " _You look like you're suffering worse than us…_ "

" _D-Do I_ ," he asked back, wiping his wet brow. " _I'm okay. It's this fucking heat… But we can't do anything if we just sit here sweating._ " He turned to the younger of the students. " _Noriaki, can you use your Hierophant to scope the area?_ "

" _Of course_ ," replied Noriaki, his Hierophant Green phasing into view. " _But I need to see how far the Stand is from us. Once I know, then we might have a chance of knowing where the user is!_ " And so, his Stand flew into the air, a silvery green, organic tentacle trailing to the ground behind him. " _Twenty meters! Forty! Sixty! One hu-_ "

Something wasn't right. The sun was slowly glowing brighter, almost bigger. The others felt it, too.

Noriaki was in trouble.

" _Kakyouin, bring your Hierophant back here_ ," cried out Joutarou.

"It's preparing for something,' shouted Jean Pierre.

" _Not yet_ ," called out a confident Noriaki. It was too far to see, but it was obvious Hierophant Green was preparing his signature technique. " _EMERALD-_ "

He barely had time to fire several emeralds before the sun discharged, multiple beams of scorching light firing off in every direction. The Stand was hit several times, and the damage reflected on Noriaki in several wounds. Everyone ducked as the laser-like beams struck all around, some hitting the rocks, but most mercifully missing.

The camels weren't so lucky, half of them pierced through and killed instantly.

"Guys, cover me and Joutarou" screamed Joaquín, Della and Jean Pierre summoned their Stands to do just that. Silver Chariot used his lightning-fast fencing to deflect the beams away from them. All My Love launched massive bubbles from all over its body to form a wall in front of them, which barely stopped them. Meanwhile, both Preciosa and Star Platinum were summoned, and they immediately punched a massive hole around the rocks into a makeshift cave.

"Everybody in! We gotta hide!" Nobody questioned him as they quickly ducked into the shadow of the hole the brothers made. The beams of light finally stopped, but that did not mean the heat of the 'sun' did. It was still sizzling hot, and the shade barely cooled them off. But that was the least of Joaquín's worries. He turned to Noriaki and asked " _Noriaki, how're you holding up? Did it get you bad?_ "

" _I'm fine_ ," he groaned, wiping some blood and sweat off him rather sluggishly. " _My Hierophant was in the middle of his Emerald Splash, so that guarded me… I'm only a bit hurt… But… It's so hot…I'm starting to get light-headed…_ "

" _You're really lucky. That attack just now… It wasn't just randomly firing around it. It knew where to hit. It got you, it got the camels, and it nearly got us. Hell, it got through some of the cracks in Della's bubble wall. I noticed the beams getting thinner as they passed... This user's smart… And he could see exactly where we are… But we can't see them… Just where…_ "

He trailed off, and he began to notice that his body was almost devoid of any strength. His head felt light, too. "Niisan _, you're definitely not okay_ ," aid Joutarou, now sounding worried. " _Did that guy get you?_ "

" _No… Not… Not really… My body feels… off… Something's wrong with my body…_ "

"Oh my god," exclaimed Joseph. "Joaquín! Look at your arms!" And when he did, he felt the blood leave his face. There were cracks all over his skin. It looked flaky, the moisture simply leaving it. What was going on? This had never happened to him before, and while he tried to remain calm, Joaquín was freaking out on the inside. "Get some water! Who still has their canteens? Wait! I have mine!"

But there was no water left in his, for the 'sun' punched a hole straight through it.

"OH, SHIT!"

Joaquín chuckled, but not at his grandfather's disappointment. He had realized just what was causing his skin to break. "I can't believe it… I should have known all along… Back in New York… The cold weather… It made my Stand weaker."

"What do you mean, Jojo," asked Della as she hastily found her canteen and carefully applied some water to his skin. Some of the cracking was healing up.

"It means Preciosa can't stand extreme temperatures. Snow, the cold… and apparently boiling heat… It needs humidity, otherwise, its power decreases... _Maldita sea_ … I hope Dio doesn't have a Stand like this guy, or else I'm fucked…"

"Oh, Jojo… We'll help you out, I promise."

And they did. What little water and sunscreen everyone had was used to restore Joaquín's skin to normal. It barely worked, and it was clear that it was affecting him more than he let on. Especially emotionally. To know that he had a genuine weakness made him upset more than anything. Anyone with the right ability could just kill him and in the worst way possible. For the first time since Preciosa was awakened, he finally understood why Stand users were so secretive about their abilities.

The minutes passed on, and they were all sweltering hot. Joaquín's skin became worse, some parts of him peeling right off. He didn't know how much longer he had. They needed answers before it was too late. Joseph borrowed Joutarou's binoculars and peeked them out from the hole, carefully trying to look for their attacker. But it failed when a single bolt of light broke it straight in half.

"SON OF A BITCH," screamed Joseph, slamming his fists and losing his composure. "WHERE THE HELL IS THAT BLOODY BASTARD! HOW IS HE SPYING ON US! MY GRANDSON AND MY FRIENDS ARE DYING AND WE STILL! HAVEN'T! FOUND HIM!" Joaquín had never seen his grandfather get so mad for as little as he had known him. It was almost eerie seeing his funny yet serious demeanor take a dip into a desperate rage.

Before he could reassure him that they won't die, he heard the most unexpected thing. Noriaki was chuckling. He was looking straight ahead and was chuckling. And it grew. He laughed, louder and more manic. It was as if he had heard the most hilarious joke in the world. He and Joseph looked at him worriedly before the latter asked, "Hey… Kakyouin… What's wrong?" But Noriaki simply laughed harder. "Hey! What's so funny?! Get it together, man!"

And it didn't stop with just him. Soon Joutarou was laughing, an act that took almost everyone off guard. Both he and Noriaki shared a glance and kept on laughing their heads off. Whatever joke they were in on must have been _that_ hilarious. "Joutarou, you too," asked a shocked Joseph. Before they knew it, Jean Pierre had joined in on the humor, holding back at first before busting his gut. "Polnareff! Even you?!"

"Guys," called out Joaquín weakly as he looked between them all, "what's the big deal..? What could possibly be so fu-"

For a moment, he looked outside. And he finally understood what was so funny. It was so dumb, so right in their faces, that he too slipped into the same mad laughter as his friends. All four of their gazes found one another, stopping their laughter for a moment before they threw their heads back and cackled like hyenas.

Joseph and Della were beside themselves in shock.

"Oh my god," groaned his grandfather. "They've all finally lost it… This heat's gotten to their heads… Are we the only ones left with sanity?!"

"I'm afraid so," whispered. Della as she approached her boyfriend and shook him by his shoulders. "Jojo, snap out of it! You gotta stay with it! This is what the enemy wants, for all of us to lose our minds before we die! Please, it's not funny!"

He calmed down enough to catch her off guard with a small kiss and an amused smile. "Don't get me wrong," he said through chuckles. "What we're laughing at is definitely funny. Look outside." Joaquín pointed outside. More specifically, he pointed to a large rock. "You notice how the sun is casting a shadow?"

"Uh-huh..?"

"Okay, now look across from it." He pointed on the opposite side, where there rested a similar rock. "Notice anything… off about it?"

It took her a moment, eyes squinting to see just what it was he was getting at. And then her green eyes widened, and she too tittered in amusement. "Oh my god," she managed to squeak out. "What an idiot!"

"I don't understand," confusedly said Joseph, taking his fedora off and scratching his hair. "What am I supposed to be looking at? It's just a rock."

"Move, _jijii_ ," grunted Joutarou as he moved through everyone to the mouth of the hole. Star Platinum appeared at his side and picked up a rock, winded up for a pitch and then chucked it. It flew at such a velocity that it was almost impossible to see. And then it struck a hole right in the air. A pained yelp could be heard in the distance.

"W-What just happened?! How's there a hole in the air?!"

" _Yare yare_ … You're pitiful, _jijii_. I'm just going to pretend _you_ lost your mind from the heat, otherwise, I'll feel really ashamed to be your grandson."

As if on cue, the 'sun' in the sky fizzled away. The sky changed from blazing orange to a starry black. It was nighttime, as it was meant to be. The air slowly cooled, and the miraculous change in temperature restored Joaquín's skin to its normal self. "Oh, thank god," he sighed as he rubbed his scarred arms. And here I thought I was gonna roast like a _pernil_ … Come on guys, let's go check out the damage."

"I still don't get it," mused Joseph as they climbed out of the hole and made their way to the hole in the air. When they further approached it, they could make out their reflections. "Oh! It's a mirror!"

"Exactly. The user was tailing us by using that mirror to reflect the landscape and blend in. It's no wonder we couldn't find him. The only reason we were able to was because of that rock's reflection. It didn't match with the shadows cast by his Stand. That's why we were laughing."

They reached the mirror and looked behind it. As it turned out, it was mounded in front of a roofless golf cart. It looked comfortable with its running AC unit, a tank filled with water, and a small table with drinks. And knocked out of his seat and unconscious, with a massive bump on his head, was a fat, balding man with a shirt depicting the sun.

"So here's our guy." Joaquín knelt before him and knocked on the part of his head that wasn't bruised. " _Oye, pendejo._ Didn't your mom teach you not to work for vampires? You'll either get killed by him or get your ass kicked by us. And it's pretty obvious how this ended for you." The only response he got was a pained, defeated groan. "We won't kill you, but if you follow us again, we might not be so lenient… Take his water. We're gonna need it."

As he began taking out the tank of water, Joseph looked confusedly from the cart to its driver. He then looked up and said, "So that means… we've already beat him? It's over? But we don't even know his name! We just disposed of his sun Stand just like that?"

"Does his name even matter? All we know is that it's based on the tarot card for 'The Sun'. And that he was pretty clever to trick us like that. Until we exposed it, then he's just another idiot to add to our list."

"We should get moving to that village," chimed in Noriaki. "The desert's already starting to get colder."

Jean Pierre's sneeze was a statement enough of how cold it was going to get.

~+JO*JO+~

It was finally Christmas. And while there was no snow in Yarpline, that did not stop everyone from celebrating in their own way. The morning after they had arrived in the village, they celebrated first with a massive breakfast courtesy of Joseph. Immediately after, he ushered everyone out of their hotel and ordered them all to go buy presents for one another. It was peaceful enough in the town that splitting up wouldn't be such a big problem.

And that's what they did for roughly an hour and a half. Joaquín and the others split apart and went from store to store, everywhere they could think of to buy what they wanted to for gifts. It was a lot easier than he had thought, and very fun, too. Because he knew everyone so well (for the most part), he was quickly able to get them their gifts. They would all enjoy what he had to offer them, and that thought alone was enough to make him happy.

After they returned to the hotel, the gift giving began. For Joaquín, he received a book from Joutarou (" _Never Cry Wolf._ It's also one of my favorite movies."), a pair of clackers from his grandfather ("The same ones I used against the Pillar Men! Treat them well."), a bag of jelly beans from Noriaki, a wristwatch from Jean Pierre, and from Della came some rather nice cologne. By the time he received his last gift, he wore the biggest smile he ever had since the start of their journey.

Then there were the gifts he bought everyone else. Joutarou received a book as well called _Hatchet_ , his grandfather received a nice pair of sunglasses, Noriaki received a sketchbook coupled with pencils and a sharpener, and Jean Pierre received some hair conditioner. He didn't forget Della, but he did not give her her gift just yet. It was too special to give out at that moment.

"Let's wait for tonight, okay," he told her, giving her a reassuring wink.

The rest of the day was one filled with fun, laughter, and peace above all else. There were days when the Joestar group did not have to worry about getting attacked, or that they were on a mission. But today, on this special day, the threat of Dio was virtually nonexistent. It was as if they were celebrating Christmas like any other family would, singing carols, drinking eggnog, and just simply enjoying the time they all spent together. It was a joyous time, and Joaquín loved every second of it.

Before everyone knew it, night fell. After feasting on turkey and other Arabian dishes, everyone turned in for the night. Except for Joaquín and Della, who, while back in their rooms, did not quite sleep just yet. The couple was looking out over the balcony of their room, him holding her from behind and simply gazing out into the beautiful night sky. They had moments like these before, but being on such a dangerous mission, they were only a few times they could share in each other's love.

"It's such a beautiful night," spoke Joaquín gently into her ear, his hands reaching and clasping hers in his gentle grip. "I don't know what it is about looking out into the night, but… it's always so calming. The stars, the changing phases of the moon… There's just something so peaceful about it.

"You know," Della started as she looked onwards, "my mom once told me something about stars. It was a silly little expression people gave to them back then."

"Really?"

"Yeah, she said… She said…" Her brow scrunched as she tried to remember how it went. "A long time ago... when people thought that the sky and heaven were one and the same... they believed the stars at night were the light of that kingdom filtering out from holes in the sky. And they called them the 'Eyes of Heaven'."

Joaquín smiles and held her closer. "That's a pretty good name for them. Did you think about that each time you saw my birthmark?"

"Sometimes. I mainly saw it as a sign that you were an angel sent from heaven with some purpose."

"Well, I kinda believe that. Well, less of me being an angel, cause I'm anything but a saint."

She turned him around and faced him, her smile a loving one. "You are to me. Ever since I met you, you've been nothing but a saint. You've shown me kindness in ways no other person has ever shown me before."

"Even when we argued," he added sheepishly.

"Yes, even when we argued. Because whether I agreed or not, you only did it because you care for me, and not out of wanting to control me. I know that's not you. Cause everything you've done for me up until now has always been for me, putting me ahead of yourself. Even before we got together, you've done nothing but be a genuine friend and an overall loving person. And it's because of that that I came to fall in love with you."

His heart beat loudly in his chest, and he was certain Della could feel it too. In this moment, he didn't need anything else to express his love for her. This was all he needed, all he wanted. Just his beloved in his arms.

'Hey, Jojo," said Della, nervous that what she would say next might ruin the moment. "Um… you didn't forget about my gift, did you?"

It didn't ruin anything, and he most certainly didn't forget. With a smile, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black box. He did not kneel, however. _But one day I just might_ , he thought with hope. "Merry Christmas, Della." And Joaquín handed the box to her. Slowly, she opened it and gasped. Inside were a pair of golden, diamond-set stud earrings.

"Jojo," she whispered in awe, eyes darting between her gift and him. "I-I don't know what to say, I… Oh my god…"

"Beautiful, aren't they? I saw them while I was out and I figured they'd make the perfect gift for you."

"You remembered my birthday."

"Huh?"

"My birthday is in April. I told you that before, remember? And you know what the birthstone for that month is, right?"

His eyebrows raised as he looked at the earrings. "Wait, did I just buy you your fucking birthstone?" She nodded with a big smile on her face. "Wow. I, uh, actually didn't forget your birthday. But I didn't remember what the birthstone for that month was. Huh... So I really _did_ get the perfect gift. Well, that makes me feel pretty good about myself."

Della just chuckled and embraced him, which he happily returned. They did not part, choosing simply to lock their gazes with one another. Green met blue, and for this moment, their hearts slowly synchronized into one beating unit. Their faces leaned close, and their lips sealed together. No more words needed to be said, for their kiss expressed all the love they had for one another.

There could not have been a better way to end their Christmas.

~ARABIA FLATS: RETIRED~


	24. Mannish Boy

Ch. 24  
Mannish Boy

DECEMBER 26TH, 1988  
08:33  
YARPLINE, UNITED ARAB EMIRATES

It was the morning after Christmas, and it was back to business as usual. The plan today was to cross through Saudi Arabia and reach its edge to cross the Red Sea via submarine. The problem with this was neither distance or the heat, but that they were going to fly over the desert region. It might have been almost a month, but Joaquín still had a fear about being on a plane with his grandfather. But thankfully, he had Della there to help convince him that they would all be safe this time around.

"We won't crash, Jojo," she reassured. "Mr. Joestar said it himself. It's our own personal plane. No other passengers, just us. Besides, this is a propeller plane. Didn't he say he was able to fly that kind? Jojo, I know your grandfather can be a bit overconfident, but there are times where you just gotta trust him. And this is one of those moments. Have confidence, okay?"

If there was anyone's intuition he could trust, it was hers

The night before, Joseph had gone out to order a Cessna for everyone. He had some trouble at first, but he managed to find a six-seater for them all, and now it was waiting out near the edge of the village. They were told to meet them there around a quarter to nine, just to give everyone a chance to eat and pack up before they met up. Both Joaquín and Della did not stay at the hotel to eat, instead taking their toast with them to eat as they left.

When they reached the edge of the village, they caught up with Joseph and Joutarou, who were patiently waiting near a pair of planes. "Good morning, kids," Joseph greeted happily. "You all ready for a nice flight?"

With some minor reluctance, Joaquín nodded. "Sure. But I swear to god, if we crash again…"

" _You and me both,_ niisan," added Joutarou, who did not enjoy the crash near China either. " _All we can hope for is that_ jijii _doesn't fall asleep at the controls._ "

"Hmph," Joseph grunted and crossed his arms. "I can't believe you boys lack faith in your grandfather. Shame on you! Should make you get some camels instead… Ah, here he is!"

The man who had sold Joseph the plane, a short pilot already in Pakistani flight gear, approached with a stony look on his face. In his hand were several bills of money. "Good morning! Is our plane ready for the trip?"

"I'm afraid I can't give it to you," the pilot said tersely. "I can't sell it. I'm sorry."

"WHAT?! Wait, wait, wait, wait… What the hell do you mean you can't sell it to us?! I gave you the money last night for one plane for six people! That plane is mine now! I paid for it, I own it! That's common sense everywhere in the world!"

"You can take the money back. I had an emergency come up." He thumbed behind him to a woman covered head to toe in a burqa holding a basket. Inside was a small, tan baby with a look of discomfort on his little sweaty face. "This baby came down with a bad fever. About 39°C. There's no doctor in this village, so we have to take this baby to the next town over where there is one."

"A baby," asked Noriaki, who had just arrived with Jean Pierre. He looked slightly unnerved, as if seeing the baby just made him feel something uncomfortable. Not to mention tired. Joaquín ignored it for now.

Joseph shook his head and pointed out the second plane. "What about that one? Why can't we used that plane instead?"

"Out of order," grunted the pilot. "Besides, there are two other planes, but they've left the village and won't come back for another two days. Is that okay? If you don't want to wait that long, this trip to the doctors will last until tomorrow evening. You'll have it after that."

The old man got in his face, almost red with anger. "You lousy Pakistani bastard! We have our own reasons for needing this plane, and they also have to do with another person's life! We can't afford to wait for almost two days!"

"I don't know or care what your reasons are! You think I'm going to sell you a plane and risk the life of a baby?"

It seemed the pilot's words struck a chord in Joseph. Through that fedora he wore, Joaquín could see a moral battle taking place in his grandfather's mind. _Mom's life is of utmost importance_ , _but he definitely doesn't want to put someone as innocent as a baby at risk at all. His heart isn't made of stone._

"Excuse me," spoke up the woman through her veil, the two arguing turning their attention to her. "May I make a suggestion? Your Cessna can hold six people, correct? Well, this child won't take much space at all. Perhaps wherever you are going, you can take him to a doctor."

"She kinda has a point," spoke up Joaquín after a bite of his toast. "I mean, we're gonna be stopping at another town before we leave. So this really shouldn't be much of a problem for-" But before he could finish, the baby abruptly started to cry. Noriaki was standing nearby, his hand retracted as if he had tried to put it on the baby.

" _I-I'm sorry_ ," he apologized. " _I didn't even put my hand on him…_ "

This interruption made the pilot suspicious of the group. "Are you sure it's okay," he asked the lady, who tried calming the infant. "You _really_ wanna leave that kid with these guys?"

"W-Wait a minute," said Joseph hastily. "Who said we're taking the baby with us?! We're on a dangerous mission, and taking him would only put him at risk!"

"Actually, _Monsieur_ Joestar," said Jean Pierre as he approached their plane. "I think it's a good idea. Don't you think so? We'll be flying that Cessna hundreds of kilometers in the sky at such speed that no Stand could reach us. Hell, not even Lovers could catch up with us over the desert. You know, if he was alive."

Joaquín proudly scoffed at the reminder.

"Also…" Jean Pierre kicked the wheel of the plane as hard as he could, which made him wince in pain. "While we fought Stands that took the shape of cars and ships, we'll be flying on a genuine plane. There'll be nothing to worry about."

That had been one of Joseph's biggest worries, as he told Joaquín last night. But now that it's been proven that the plane wasn't a Stand, he seemed to visibly calm down. He turned to the others and asked, "Well, what do you all think?"

Everyone looked at one another and then back at him, nodding in agreement. "I guess we're on baby delivery duty," said Joaquín with a shrug. "Just… _por amor de dios_ , don't crash another plane."

That earned him a quick scathing look before his grandfather announced, "Very well then! Let's hop aboard and take off!" There were no arguments after that. The group boarded the plane and took off towards the desert that laid ahead. It would have taken the rest of the day to get to where they needed, and until then, they all took the flight as a chance to relax once more. And they would do so without worrying about another Stand roasting them in the sky.

A few hours had passed in peaceful silence. Joseph was doing a rather good job in not crashing their plane, now several hundred feet above the desert landscape. Both Noriaki and Jean Pierre napped in their seats. Meanwhile, Joaquín and Della were discussing what they would expect in Egypt.

"We're gonna be facing some of the most deadly Stand users in Egypt, aren't we," asked Della grimly.

"Of course we are," answered Joaquín, clearly wishing the opposite. "Dio's not gonna pull any punches once we get there. He's gonna be sending his most elite after us. How many he'll send, I don't know. But what I do know is that we need to keep our guard up better than we've been doing lately. If we let it down for one moment, we're fucked."

"Jojo, language," she hissed and pointed to the basket in her arms. "The baby!"

She had been holding it ever since they got onto the plane. The infant resting inside it was sound asleep, although he still looked feverish. Because of his presence, Della had taken the role of a doting mother, making it specifically clear that if anyone swore around the baby, her Stand would wash their mouths out in bubbles.

"Sorry," he apologized. "I forgot. Honest. Please don't wash my mouth out."

Her expression simmered as she picked the child up into her arms, cradling him as a mother would. "… You wanna know something I just realized, Jojo?"

"Mm?"

"We don't even know this kid's name."

How could he forget that as well? _That's right. His mother didn't even tell us. Now that she's brought that up, she looked kind of… anxious… As if she was less worried about his sickness and more so giving him away. That woman can't possibly expect us to care for a child…_ But he didn't voice his other thoughts. Everyone would have looked at him as if he'd grown a second head.

So Joaquín simply nodded and said, "Yeah, you're right. You think we should give him a new name or something? Maybe just a nickname?"

Della looked thoughtfully at the child for a moment before she spoke up. "How's Duke sound?"

"Nah. Sounds like a dog's name… How about Armstrong?"

"No… What about Morton?"

"Maybe Lucky?"

"... Mannish Boy?"

A snicker came from the pilot's seat. Joseph had been listening in on their conversation, it seems, and Della looked slightly offended. "How's that funny?"

"To be honest," chuckled Joseph, "that kid kinda looks mature for his age. It could just be me, though. What do you think?

"Well, I think it sounds endearing. And anyone who thinks otherwise is… urgh…" Her nose crinkled as she held out the baby. " Oh, g-geez, he's gonna need a diaper change. Um… Does anyone know how to do that? Jojo? Joutarou?"

The only other person awake was Joutarou at the co-pilot's seat. Both he and his brother shared a glance before shaking their heads to Della. Neither having been around another baby, they had no experience in cleaning up their messes. Their grandfather was busy flying them, and Noriaki was a single child. So that left…

"Hey, Jean Pierre," spoke up Joaquín, reaching over to shake the Frenchman's shoulder. He jolted awake, looking all around before turning to face him. "Hey, you okay?"

" _Oui_ ," he groaned, rubbing his eyes. "I'm fine. I just felt like I had a really bad dream… But… I can't remember it… "

"Well, you can continue it after you help change the baby."

He gave him and Mannish Boy a scandalized look. "Wait a second, why me?!"

Della carefully handed the infant to Jean Pierre, who held him out at a distance. "Well, how old were you when Sherry was born," she asked.

"Not old enough to help change her, if that's what you're thinking! I've never changed a diaper before!"

"Then you and I can practice," said Joaquín, looking around the basket for anything to put on him. All Mannish Boy had was his blanket. "Er… At least through primitive means… Geez, I almost forgot we're in the Middle East. No pampers or anything… Oh well."

It was no real issue, aside from some expected squirming on their charge's part. More than anything, it was great preparation for the future. Joaquín always wanted to be a father. _And if I'm gonna be a father_ , he thought as he wrapped up and disposed of the soiled diaper, _then I gotta practice changing diapers. I don't want the kid's mom doing all the work._

Just as the two were finishing up ("Hold him steady so I can pin that blanket up, Joaquín."), a whimpering noise caught their attention. It was Noriaki, his face pale, eyes shut tight, and a look that told them he was having a rather troubling dream. Concerned, Joaquín reached over and placed his hand on the youth's shoulder, and before he could shake him, he began to flail.

" _STOP_ ," screamed Noriaki in terror. " _PLEASE, STOP IT_!"

" _Kakyouin_ ," Joutarou shouted, swiveling from his seat to try and pacify his friend. " _What's going on?!_ " But try as everyone might, there was no stopping the nightmare-induced frenzy. Fists and kicks flew blindly all around him, the others steering clear lest they end up hit.

Joseph turned around and yelled, "What the hell's going on back there?!" He was greeted with a heel to the jaw.

And then the plane began to spin out of control.

"S-Shit, the controls!" Joseph took a hold of the plane's controls, but found it difficult to correct himself. "Damnit! We're tail-spinning off course!"

"No we're not," said Joaquín, trying to keep his tone level and his panic under check. Noriaki was still panicking in his seat, and he and the others managed to hold his arms back. "No, we are not! Just fix the controls and we'll be fine! _Damnit, Noriaki, snap out of it!_ "

" _Ça ne sert à rien_ ," muttered Jean Pierre as he jerked with his friend's arm. "He was like this in the morning! He's having another nightmare!"

"H-Hey," spoke up Joutatou through the clamor. "This Cessna… are we starting to fall?"

That was the last thing anyone wanted to hear, but it was true. The plane was spiraling straight towards the ground below. And just like he did during their first plane crash, Joaquín screamed in sheer panic.

"Joaquín, SHUT IT," roared grandfather, trying vainly to pull them out of their predicament. "AND GET KAKYOUIN UNDER CONTROL, TOO!"

"THEN GET THIS PLANE UP BEFORE WE CRASH," shrieked his eldest grandson, struggling to keep the youth's arm back. With three people holding him back, Noriaki slowly began to calm down. His whimpering did not stop, however, still trapped in whatever nightmare he was suffering from. Despite this, they were still diving at an accelerating pace. "W-WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING, _ABUELITO_?! WE'RE STILL CRASHING!"

"Hurry and get us straightened out," shouted Joutarou, looking just as panicked as his brother.

"ENOUGH," bellowed Joseph. "JUST SHUT UP, ALL OF YOU! If you all keep panicking, I'm going to start panicking! So just let me work! I've got this!" But nothing he did was working, no matter what he tried. "Damnit! I've got no choice! HERMIT PURPLE!" The thorned vines shot out from his hands and into the control console of their plane. Slowly, the plane stopped spinning, and before they could even crash, it straightened itself out.

"I-I did it! And just in the nick of time!"

They were saved, and everybody cheered for their pilot. Even Joutarou allowed himself a smile of relief. Joseph turned back to his group with a large, laughing smile. "Did you all see that," he asked them excitedly. "My skills are the best! Pulled out of a nosedive by Joseph Joestar! No plane crash can take me down!"

But the excitement died when Joutarou exclaimed, "HEY," and brought everyone's attention to the palm tree they were about to fly into.

Joaquín's scream had never reached a higher octave until this moment.

He was never, _ever_ going to fly with his grandfather again.

~+JO*JO+~

After saving themselves and their belongings from the wrecked plane, the group had set up a small camp near the crash. It wasn't until the stars were shining that everything had finally settled down. The excitement and panic of their second crash (Joseph's fourth) was gone, replaced with something almost calm. Even Joaquín had managed to come down from his shell shock after a while.

With everyone warming up around the fire they set up, Joaquín figured it was time to ask what was undoubtedly on everyone's minds. " _Okay_ ," he began, turning to the still tired Noriaki, " _would you like to tell us what was so scary in your dreams that you had to get us into another plane crash?_ "

"Yes, do tell us," Jean Pierre asked in annoyance. "Tell us why we almost ended up dead outside of a Stand attack, Kakyouin! Just what the hell is wrong with you?! Not only did we nearly die, but now we're back to walking in a desert! This is all your fault!"

"Jean Pierre, that's enough," scolded Della, who had reached out to rub Noriaki's back consolingly. "Can't you see he feels bad about all this? He wouldn't intentionally hurt us like that, you know that. Now back off before I sick All My Love on you." She always meant business when her anger came out, and Jean Pierre was no fool to test her. Her attention returned to the boy, and her voice and expression softened. " _Tell us what happened, Noriaki. We're here for you._ "

He shook his head in his hand and spoke. " _I… I don't know what happened… I just went to sleep and… had some awful dream. At least, I think I did. When I woke up, not only did I feel so drained, but… I forgot what I dreamt about. It happened this morning, too… Just… what's wrong with me..?_ "

"It's okay, Kakyouin," said Joseph as he leaned over and patted his back as well. "I think you're just tired. And not just physically, either."

" _He's right_ ," agreed, Joaquín. " _We've been out of Japan for almost a month. We've been in fights left and right, we're almost always on the move, and we have barely any time to relax. It's very mentally exhausting. Believe me, I'm tired too. But I keep going. And so should you. Don't let the pressure of this journey get to you, okay. You're not alone._ " The youth cast him a tired gaze, but his smile was enough to show he was thankful for his friend.

Turning his attention to his brother, who was checking Mannish Boy in his basket, he asked, " _Hey, bro. How's he holding up?_ "

" _Actually_ ," said Joutarou with a hint of relief, " _his fever's down. The kid's not sweating like crazy or anything._ "

While everyone else looked relieved, Joaquín felt a twinge of annoyance. They had brought a baby for nothing. Had he stood behind, he would have gotten better overnight as he did now. But it was too late to really complain. He simply shrugged his shoulders and said, " _Well, thank goodness. One less problem we have to worry about. I guess we can still send him to the next town so he could be flown back._ "

He couldn't feel too annoyed, though. Mannish Boy looked very happy when Joseph picked him up and began playing peek-a-boo with him, and Della seemed less worried. Joaquín could take some comfort in that. But now that he thought of his recovery, he couldn't help but feel something off about it. Miraculous as it was, it seemed odd that a baby could recover so quickly. He wanted to bring it up with the other, but he didn't want to spoil everyone's good mood.

So rather than speaking, he got up and went over to his brother, who had gone back to their crashed Cessna. It rested in a crumpled heap right beside the offending palm tree it flew into. Catching up with Joutarou, Joaquín was greeted with a low, " _Suspicious, isn't it?_ "

" _You too, huh_ ," he whispered back.

" _Yeah. No kid should get over a fever that quickly._ "

" _I know, right!_ " Joutarou went through the open door of the plane and looked through the cockpit. " _What're you looking for?_ "

" _I'm trying to see if the radio works. Hold on..._ " He reached over to the console and pulled out a radio intercom. He spoke in English into it as he turned the dial to reach out to anyone listening. "Mayday, mayday, this is Kuujou Joutarou. Anyone, please respond, over." There was silence and scattered static. "Kuujou Joutarou, we're in need of assistance, please respond, over."

It took a moment, but they had landed on a frequency, someone finally responded. They both smiled to one another before Joutarou told them where they were, how many they were, and where they needed to go. The furthest they could go was Mecca, and that was fine by him. " _They should be here by the morning. But…_ " He looks grimly for a moment. " _Dio's gonna know about it. If he's like we think he is, the message will be intercepted somehow._ "

" _Don't worry about that_ ," assured his brother. " _This is mainly for Mannish Boy. If Dio sends someone over, we can both kick their ass toge-_ "

Before he could finish, the baby's cry began to ring out in the night. Stepping out of the wreckage, they saw Noriaki holding and getting ready to punch him. Della was quick enough to take him away while Joseph reprimanded the troubled youth.

" _Hey, Joutarou... I think we should keep an eye on both of them tonight… I'm starting to get worried about Noriaki._ "

And that was what they did later that night as they ate some homemade porridge, courtesy of their grandfather. The brothers, as well as Jean Pierre, kept a careful watch on Noriaki as he sat alone with his bowl. They felt really bad for him, but they couldn't help but think something was up? His nightmares, his attitude towards the baby… Was it something traumatic he experienced as a child? _Who knows_ , he thought. _But whatever it is, I think it's better we don't ask._

They were better off asking. Before anyone knew it, Noriaki had stood up and pointed to Mannish Boy in his crib. " _Everyone_ ," he shouted, grabbing everyone's attention. " _Did you see him just now?! That baby isn't normal after all! He just killed a scorpion! Skewered it with his pin in the blink of an eye!_ "

" _Attends une minute_ ," said Jean Pierre, eyeing him suspiciously as he stood up. "What are you talking about?"

" _I'm saying that this baby isn't just some baby! He's barely a year old and he already knows what a scorpion is! He killed it with his own hands!_ "

"A scorpion," asked Joseph worriedly. "Where?!"

" _In the basket!_ " When he pointed to it, Mannish Boy immediately started shaking. Della picked him up and tried to soothe him as Noriaki hurriedly uncovered the basket. There was nothing inside, not even clinging to the lining sheet or pillow. He was disheartened, but it didn't last when he rounded on the baby and tugged on his clothes. "It's the truth! I saw it! He must be hiding it in his clothes."

" _Noriaki, cut it ou_ t," she cried, prying the baby away from him. She looked upset, but clearly worried about the sanity of her friend. " _Just what the hell's gotten into you!_ "

" _B-but Della-_ "

Joseph stepped in and shook his head. "Look, you're tired," he said in a firm, matter-of-fact tone. "You need to get some rest. We can talk about this tomorrow morning okay?" And with that, Noriaki was left in shocked disbelief that nobody would believe him. Joaquín would have, but it was getting difficult given how crazed he was acting. It was only a matter of time before he ended up snapping.

Which came much sooner than anyone thought. And it was while Della was trying to feed the fussy baby some home-made baby food Joseph whipped up (which he was vehemently refusing for some reason). With no warning at all, Noriaki swatted the spoonful of mush she was feeding with out of her hand. Everyone immediately got up, including a now absolutely pissed-off Della Brown.

" _Are you trying to get yourself pelted with bubbles,_ " she spoke in an enraged, seething tone as she handed the frightened baby over to Joseph. " _You've been acting crazy all night! Just what gives, goddamnit?!_ "

" _I'm sorry, but I gotta agree with Della_ ," Joaquín said with less animosity than his girlfriend. " _Your irrational behavior is getting everyone both worried and pissed off. So you better start explaining what the fuck's going on!_ "

"Joaquín, _language_!" But her admonishment went ignored.

" _Everyone, please_ ," implored Noriaki, eyes wide and his face pale and sweaty. " _I'm convinced of it! I might not know where that baby's hiding that scorpion, but I do know that he's a Stand user! Look at this wound!_ " He pulled back the right sleeve of his _gakuran_ , and everyone gasped. Scratched on it were two, bloody words.

BABY STAND.

" _These words are a warning! I must have gotten them from my dream! Please, you have to believe me!_ "

Nobody said a word. Then…

"K-Kakyouin," whispered Jean Pierre. "H-have you finally..?"

"Oh my god," muttered Joseph in disbelief

"Impossible," said Della softly in fear.

Joutarou immediately pointed to his friend and asked as steadily as he could, " _Kakyouin… that wound on your arm… did you cut that into yourself..?_ "

One could almost feel Noriaki's heart drop from the distrust in his friend's voice.

" _You don't… believe me_ ," he muttered, just as unbelieving as his peers. Then, he set his face to something more serious, his tone hardening as well. " _If it's got to come to this, then so be it… It might be cowardly, but… I'm going to do it the hard way! HIEROPHANT GREEN!_ " And the mechanical Stand manifested before him, pointing straight at Mannish Boy. While the baby didn't scream, the gesture was enough to make Della cry out in his stead.

"ENOUGH!" A _hamon_ -infused chop struck Noriaki's neck, causing both him and his Stand to fall. Everyone stared silently at Joaquín, furious and shining with sparks. " _I'm sorry it had to come to that_ ," he spoke remorsefully, " _but you needed to be calmed down. I'm also sorry I couldn't believe you… We'll settle this in the morning._ "

"Can he really keep traveling and fighting with us," asked Jean Pierre doubtfully.

"Again, in the morning… Come on, let's get him to bed. We should probably do the same. It'll be quite a while before backup finds us out here."

There were no further arguments after that. They all helped Noriaki into a sleeping bag before turning in for the night in their own. It had been a crazy day, and with no Stand attacks. It would have been funny were it not for their friend's breakdown.

 _Sorry, Noriaki. We'll figure something out. Rest easy, kid…_

~+JO*JO+~

The distant sound of music was bothering Joaquín. It sounded too cheery for his liking. Not to mention the whirring of machinery close to his ear. It made him groan sit up, ready to tell off whatever was making that noise.

"Will you cut it the fu-"

But when he opened his eyes, he was greeted to an incredible, yet questionable sight. He was no longer in the starry-skied desert, but some sunny, brightly-colorful amusement park. There was a carousel, a Ferris wheel, balloons of various colors, and an assortment of other landmarks that befitted the nature of his environment. The noise, it seemed, emanated from the spinning tea cups he was sleeping beside. It was incredible, yet very terrifying.

 _Where am I_ , he thought worriedly as he stood to his feet. _Am I still in Saudi Arabia? Did the rescue team come? What about…_ He looked down to see his friends getting up as well, and they too looked confused.

"Hey, how did we end up in an amusement park," grumbled Joseph sleepily.

Beside him, Della let out a shuddering yawn and looked around with squinted eyes. "Hey… where'd Noriaki and the baby go?"

"I don't know," answered Joaquín. "They might be nearby."

Before he could even look, Jean Pierre immediately shot to his feet, shaky and sweating nervously. "That's right," he exclaimed fearfully. "T-This is… E-Everyone! Be careful! I remember now… This place… We're in a dream… a frightening one… We're in the nightmare world!"

While everyone else gave confused looks, Joseph laid back in his sleeping bag. "Then we shouldn't rush it," he said unconcernedly. "It's just a dream…"

"That's how I reacted! Listen! What Kakyouin was going on about was true! A baby Stand! This is the enemy's trick! Believe me or not, but that 'baby' is a Stand user! However, what makes this whole thing more horrifying is that when you wake up, we'll lose our memories!"

And there was the answer to everything that has been happening the entire day. Absurd as it sounded, everything made sense. The baby that overcame a high fever with no medicine, Noriaki's nightmares, his animosity towards the baby. And that wound on his arm… It reminded him so much of that movie _A Nightmare on Elm Street_ , only they weren't dealing with a claw-handed demon. They should have heeded the warnings, and now, they were going to pay for ever doubting him.

 _We gotta apologize to him. That is..._ if _we can find him…_

He scanned the area for any sign of the youth. His clothes, his outlandish hair, anything. "Damnit, if you're right, then he should already be here. I knocked Noriaki out… So where the hell is he?"

Della turned to Joaquín with a look of fear on her face. "Jojo," she spoke with a tremble. "Please tell me this is a lie… Please tell me that baby's not one of Dio's minions. He can't be… He's just a baby…"

He shook his head, wishing he could believe the same thing. "Everything keeps pointing the other way," he said sadly. "This kid's been planted in our group to kill us. The mother, if she even is his mother, probably didn't even know… Come on, Dio sent a dying girl to kill us, you think he's above sending a baby?"

She sighed and looked away from him, admitting defeat to reason. "No, you're right… I can't believe he'd send a killer baby after us… Does he have no shame in what he-"

"H-Hey, Polnareff," cried out Joseph in shock. "Your hair..! What's going on with it?! It looks so ridiculous!"

Now Jean Pierre's hair, as much as they made fun of it, wasn't that big. Standing straight up, it was at least 3 or so inches long. But when they all looked at it now, they saw that it had grown far longer and more exaggerated. And what was worse, it was growing at an alarming rate. As he panicked, his hair came undone and wrapped thick, tendril-like strands around some pillars to hold him back.

"Polnareff!"

And then everything devolved into chaos. The chain dangling from Joutarou's collar wrapped and choked around his neck. The little Puerto Rican flags on the back of Joaquín's gloves slithered off and tied up his hands and his mouth, muffling his screams of anger. Della had essentially become a literal Cousin It when her hair grew and covered her entire body, weighing her in place. Even Joseph was facing a dilemma of his own.

"M-My artificial hand," he exclaimed as the robotic appendage burst from his glove. And then it inflated to comical size before his eyes. "HOLY SHIT!" It collapsed under its heavy weight. Nobody found any of this funny, except for the mailbox and the flowers around them that sprung to life and cackled with mad glee.

"How can we fight it," asked a struggling Jean Pierre, trying to free his hair. "How?! I-In this world, anything could happen! There are no rules, no common sense! Everything happens according to the Stand user's desires!" He soon froze with an expression of imminent terror as he looked out towards the park, a fearful expression on his face. "N-No... There is… _one_ rule… for us… to get cut apart and killed."

Following his eyes, he could see exactly what made the Frenchman so scared. Gliding towards them in long, purple robes and a tall, matching mitre-like cap was what could be described as the grim reaper, his mechanical hands and shoulder pauldrons glinting gold in the sunlight. In his hands was the instrument of their doom: a gigantic scythe. His face was that of a white carnival clown, his smile frozen in a cruel smile.

Joaquín knew exactly which tarot card this represented without even asking.

'Death'.

Without moving his lips, the clown gleefully shouted, "Rally-ho!" and flew directly at them. They were all trapped, unable to move or even attack.

But that didn't stop Joutarou from roaring and calling out, "STAR PLATINUM!"

"It's no use, Joutarou," warned Jean Pierre. "You can't summon your Stand within the dream!"

And yet, despite this, Star Platinum still appeared with a roar and a puff of smoke, ready to fight. But there was something off about him. For one thing, Stands don't just appear out from smoke. At least, not literally. And second, he had a manic smile on his face, something he rarely did less than his user. Even Joutarou knew something was wrong when his Stand did nothing except turn around and glare right back at him. And before he could react, he was attacked with a flurry of punches.

Joaquín could only stare aghast as his Stand betrayed him. He had never seen anything like this, and yet there it was. _But how_ , was his only vocal thought, unable to process what had happened. But then, the answer came when Star Platinum laughed uncharacteristically, summoned a frying pan and slammed it straight into his face. There was nothing about his cartoonish flat face, but he seemed to take joy out of it as he laughed and shook his head before it transformed into the face of their enemy.

"Rally-ho," he exclaimed, his voice childish and amused. "Sorry, but I'm a fake!" And in another puff of smoke, half of his features took the shape of Silver Chariot. The real Stand floated right behind, gleeful at his successful trick.

"This overwhelming energy! This absolute fear! Oh, what fun! See, Stands are created from your spiritual energy! And in your dreams, your spirits are in an unprotected state! While my Death 13 has them defenseless and crowded here, you can't bring out your Stands!" He then cut off the fake Silver Chariot's head, balancing it on his blade. "Although, if you bring and keep it out before you go to sleep… Well, just like your clothes, bags, and prosthetics, it would have come in as well.

"My Death 13 will never meet any Stands here…" Behind him, a clone of Hierophant Green slipped through the cracks of the floor, a tentacle waving menacingly. "Because that's the only thing that could fight my Stand! That's the reason why I'll win! Heh heh heh… Now! Seeing as this is the end, allow me to symbolically vocalize my generous victory and happy, invigorating feeling!"

He raised his scythe, poised to swipe off all their heads. This was it. They were about to die. Their mission had utterly failed. And all thanks to a baby… Joaquín couldn't have asked for a more embarrassing death.

 _Mom, Dad,_ Abuelito _,_ Abuelita _, Joutarou, Della… I'm so sorry… I love you all…_

"RALLY-" And before he could finish, two silvery-green hands clasped around Death 13's neck, squeezing it. They knew it belonged to Hierophant Green, but what confused them was why the fake would attack his own creator. Unless…

" _Rally-ho_ ," he spoke in a familiar voice, and then it became clear.

This was the _real_ Hierophant.

Before they knew it, everyone's hair, clothes, and appendages had returned to normal. And sitting in plain view in one of the spinning cups was none other than a smiling-

"Kakyouin," shouted everyone in relief.

"Noriaki," shouted Joaquín and Della just as relieved.

" _When I was knocked unconscious_ ," he said openly to Death 13, " _did you forget I brought out my Hierophant? Well, before I really went to sleep, he burrowed underground to hide_ "

"H-Help… me," Death 13 choked out.

" _Come on. It's time for your punishment, baby_."

The clown-like Stand flew and slashed back and forth, vainly attempting to get the other Stand off of him. But no matter what he did, Hierophant Green firmly held on to his back and neck. All he could do was struggle and shout to be let go by his attacker.

" _That's enough, Death 13..! Can't you see your scythe can't cut me in your blind spot? If you keep up your useless resistance any further… Even though you're a baby_ ," he hopped out of his cup, " _you're gonna end up breaking your neck._ "

Everyone approached the youth, each with equal parts happiness and embarrassment. They all owed him an apology for their attitude towards him, but none more so than Della and Joaquín.

" _Noriaki, I'm so sorry I didn't believe you before_ ," she said with a guilty blush. " _I should have listened and not acted so… overprotective of a baby that wasn't even mine. You were so adamant about the whole situation... and we've all been through so many battles against the bizarre… It didn't cross my mind that you might have been onto something._ "

Joaquín rested a hand on her shoulder consolingly as his eyes met the student's. " _What's done is done. But she's got a point. None of us should have doubted you, kid. We're all sorry._ "

But he smiled and waved it off. " _It's nothing, Joaquín. I was only able to think of a way to bring my Stand into the dream when you knocked me out with your_ hamon _. It was a long shot, but I figured if I fell asleep and didn't withdraw him, I could bring Hierophant with me. So in a way, it's all thanks to you._ "

" _Oh, geez_ ," chuckled Joaquín with a big grin. " _I don't know how to feel about that one. Heh…_ "

Their moment of atonement was interrupted, however, when they all noticed something bizarre happening around the struggling, midair Stands. The clouds in the sky were converging right above them, forming a single, growing mass. They had all forgotten that in this world, Death 13 had full control over everything. The sky was no exception.

" _Don't try anything funny, Death 13_ ," warned Noriaki to the dream-controlling Stand.

" _KAKYOUIN_ ," exclaimed Joutarou, " _GET HIEROPHANT OFF HIS BACK!_ "

There was no time to react. The cloud shot out and took the form of a hand, snatching the scythe out of it owners hands. And as swiftly as it did, it gave one good swipe and cut backward through both Stands. Everyone speechlessly watched in horror as Noriaki began to collapse.

" _I-Impossible_ ," he stammered, just as shocked as his friends. " _Death 13… he even cut up… his own body…_ "

" _NORIAKI_ ," screamed Joaquín as his friend fell face first to the ground, dead at the hands of a terrible Stand's trick. He couldn't believe it. Their friend was gone. He wanted to scream his rage at the dying Death 13, curse him for taking away one of their own, but when he looked up at him, the words caught in his throat. It seemed that their enemy still lived, for he still floated and still laughed as the only thing falling to earth was Hierophant Green and most of his cloak.

And nothing else.

With a gleeful giggle, he shouted, "RALLY-HO!" And tore off the rest of his tattered cloak. There was no body to speak of for Death 13. Just a head, collar, and golden arms. He was all hollow, and he used it to his advantage to seamlessly kill Noriaki's Stand. It really was a nasty trick, and now there was no hope for them. _Now_ they were truly finished.

" _Just kidding._ " And to everyone's surprise, Noriaki rose to his feet, unscathed and whole.

"Kakyouin," shouted Joseph in relief. "You're okay!"

"You're just full of surprises, aren't you," chided Jean Pierre playfully.

" _But how the hell did you even survive that_ ," wondered Joaquín aloud.

" _If you'd all please look up_ ," Noriaki started nonchalantly as he pointed to the sky, " _you'll notice that my Hierophant isn't that reckless that he'd stay on his back forever._ "

He was right, and Joaquín didn't need his Stand's incredible eyesight to see the trick he pulled of his own. Hierophant was suspended behind Death 13, his body bisected and legless. But he was still connected to the clown through one of his tentacles slithering into his ears. _Damn, he's brilliant,_ thought an impressed Joaquín. _He coiled up his lower body before he could even get attacked! He's definitely full of surprises!_

While Noriaki's Stand unraveled and entered his enemies body, Death 13 was frozen and unable to stop the internal invasion. Even as he pleaded for him to stop, he didn't stop until his entire body had snaked its way inside the enemy. The clown's mouth opened to reveal the shimmering, golden eyes of Hierophant Green, victorious and in control of his enemy.

" _So I guess Dio hasn't told you, huh? My Hierophant's legs can unravel into string. That's why I told you! You couldn't hit me from your blind spot! Now, if you don't want me to rupture your insides, first…_ " He pulls back his sleeve to show the scars that revealed their attacker's identity. " _I want you to heal these wounds now. You're able to do that in this dream, aren't you?_ "

"Y-Yes," yelped the vulnerable Death 13. And from there, the demands were made to leave them alone from now on, and to give them all a dreamless sleep. They would never remember this dream, and they all doubted they would believe Noriaki if he told them. But at least they could all rest easy knowing that they would have nothing more to worry about when it came to Mannish boy thanks to him.

~+JO*JO+~

 _What the hell happened last night_ , wondered Joaquín as he woke up more tired than he had ever been in his life. The only thing he could remember was falling asleep and then waking up. There was no recollection of any dreams in between. _Did I have a bad dream or something? God… The only thing I can even remember was some weird laughing and that's it_ …

" _Good morning everyone_ ," announced a chipper voice. " _Come on, it's time to get up!_ "

It was Noriaki. And then everything from the prior night came flooding back.

He sat up straight as the boy knelt beside him, his eyes their usual calm and his smile wide. " _Hey, Joaquín. I've got breakfast being made. Do you like oatmeal?_ "

" _Yeah, I do_ ," grumbled Joaquín, stretching his aching body. " _Hey, listen, you doing okay? Last night was pretty tense. You were rambling and then you had that scar…_ "

" _Scar? What scar?_ " His smile didn't falter.

" _The-_ " He straightened up more, now fully awake. " _The scar! The one that said 'Baby Stand'! On your left arm! You showed us and you were trying to hurt Mannish Boy!_ "

" _I don't know what you're talking about. I'm perfectly fine. See?_ " He pulled back his sleeve to show how unblemished it was. No scars to speak of. Was it all just some dream, the one he couldn't remember? " _I think you might need some more sleep if you're gonna ramble yourself. Or some oatmeal._ " And with that, Noriaki went back rousing the others, everyone equally tired and also hungry.

 _I guess it was just my imagination_ , he thought with a shrug, watching as everyone was served their breakfast. _Oh well. It doesn't matter, either way. Nobody's hurt. Not even Mannish Boy._ Who, coincidentally, had become much quieter when it came time to feed him. He still wouldn't eat, even after he had refused last night. They ultimately had to resort to tickling to get his mouth full of his food.

To which he promptly spat it out and cried. Maybe he just really hated anything mushy.

~MANNISH BOY: RETIRED~


	25. Sparkle

Ch. 25  
Sparkle

DECEMBER 27TH, 1988  
17:58  
THE RED SEA

The Red Sea.

The most beautiful, clearest sea in the world, according to divers. But it wasn't called this because its waters were crimson, but rather due to the deserts whose eastern and western coasts it parts. An endless expanse of blue untouched by pollution. No city was cruel enough to do it, whether they had rivers that poured into it to dump waste in or not. It was just too beautiful.

It was the perfect scenery for Joaquín and his group, who finally left Saudi Arabia and the Emirates behind them. The morning after their crash, they were saved by a rescue team and taken straight to Mecca as promised. Everyone managed to relax for a while and fill their stomachs before they took off for Jeddah and chartered a small speedboat to head to their next destination. But before they left, they had decided to hand over Mannish Boy to someone who was more than happy to adopt him.

Noriaki was oddly relieved afterward.

It had been quite a while since they left. Everyone had just finished a quick dinner and were anticipating what lied ahead of them. Or rather, everyone except Jean Pierre. As opposed to going west straight for Egypt, they were going south towards a small island. Joaquín had pointed this out, simply to rouse his French friend's curiosity and prepare him for what they had in store.

"There's a reason I haven't talked much about it until now," said Joseph, sounding serious to not give the ruse away. "There's someone we have to meet before we enter Egypt. I'm simply taking a detour. This man… is important to this journey.

"Someone important," asked Jean Pierre, his curiosity piqued. "Living on a small island like that?"

Joseph nodded and left it at that. He was right about this being an important person. They had received word about him earlier that day from the Speedwagon Foundation. He had woken up two days after the incident, but he had finally been able to stand and walk about three days ago. He was safely flown out of India to this isolated island, where their next, safer mode of transportation awaited them. That is, _if_ he had managed to procure it on time.

They parked their boat along the beach of the island, disembarking and walking towards the jungle that lied ahead. Joaquín would have thought something dangerous lurked within, but he knew better to think that. It would be safe within, whether they were attacked or not. The man they were about to meet would help them.

" _Joestar-san_ ," Noriaki spoke apprehensively and low. " _Can anyone really live here? This small island feels like it's deserted._ " He sounded well rehearsed, even more so considering there was no rehearsal for this. The only thing they needed to work with was that they came to meet someone important to their journey. Everything after that was improvised.

"Only one person lives alone here," answered Joseph, just barely whispering. "That's what he told me in India earlier."

" _Huh? Who is it? Who is he?!_ "

"What do you mean by Indian curry," asked Jean Pierre, having misheard what Joseph said. It was funny enough to make Joaquín chuckle, but not Joutarou. In fact, he wasn't even paying attention. He was more focused on the bushes, where a pair of eyes as stoic as Jotarou's were looking out from within.

 _Those eyes…_

"Hey," called Joutarou unworriedly, "we've got someone eavesdropping on us." And as soon as he pointed him out, the man turned tail and ran. From where he stood, Joaquín could make out his dark skin, his matching robe, the white hair tied up in a long tail and smaller ones atop his head… And the golden medallions that made up his bizarre earrings/necklace. It was an all-too-familiar sight they hadn't seen in weeks.

They gave chase, but it didn't last long until they arrived at a small, fenced-in house that was as old and lonely as the runaway. The man slowed down to pick up a bowl before passing through his gate. Nobody could see what he was doing properly, but given the sounds of clucking and scattering seeds, it became apparent that he was tending to some chickens.

"Now, now," he muttered tiredly, yet lovingly to his flock, "calm down! Are you really that hungry, Michael? Prince? Do not be greedy! I put a lot of thought into this properly nutritious meal; it even has your favorite: shellfish! Get yourself big and fat so you'll make a delicious chicken, Lionel."

"Hey, who are you," asked Jean Pierre hurriedly.

"From the back," said Noriaki in surprise, the two trying to approach. "It can't be! That hair is-"

But Joseph stopped them. "Just wait a moment," he barked before turning to the man. "I'll speak with him. Everyone just wait here." And so he approached the fence, addressing the hermit formally. "Excuse me, sir. My name is Joseph Joestar. I'm traveling with my companions and family to Egypt, and we-"

But the man, who had frozen in his feeding, stopped him with a harsh, "Go away! I will not hear it! I… I want you to stop talking to me! Whenever anyone comes to visit me, it's to tell me bad news! It's always only whenever something horrible happens!" The man turned to face them, a look of pained anger as he pointed away from them. Everyone except Joseph gasped. They knew that face. "I will not hear it! Now go away!"

"Avdol," spoke Joutarou in disbelief.

"M-Mr. Avdol," exclaimed Della. But nothing they said stopped the man from fleeing into his home and slamming the door shut. There was a shocked silence amongst them all, which only Della was brave enough to break with a whisper. "B-But that's impossible… Mr. Joestar… was that-"

"That was Avdol's father," he answered solemnly. "He's abandoned the rest of the world to live alone on this remote island. This is why I haven't spoken to any of you about this until now. Because if Dio found out we stopped here, then his peace would be more disturbed than it already is… I didn't want that…"

"So we're here to…"

"Recruit him… But to tell him that his son had passed…It's going to be hard…" It was harder for Jean Pierre, still unknowing of Mohamed's true fate. He still blamed himself for what happened in India. Being here now, he undoubtedly felt worse, considering his shameful expression. Joseph reached out and rested a hand on his shoulder. "Polnareff, his death wasn't your fault."

The Frenchman shrugged him off and began to walk away. "No, it _is_ ," he refuted. "It is _my_ fault. And it's my responsibility to bear the guilt."

Seeing his friend still mourning the supposed death of their friend was too much for Joaquín to bear. They had kept him in the dark for so long. And while he agreed that he needed to be back then, now that they were within walking distance of Mohamed, it almost felt insulting. _There's no more reason to keep it up now. You need to know the truth. It's the very least you deserve…_

With a sigh, he began walking after him. Della noticed and asked, "You're going to keep him company Jojo?"

"Of course," he said with a backward glance and a smile. "You think I'm gonna let him get himself into trouble while he's sulking? I'll be back, don't worry. Just, uh, tell 'Mr. Avdol' I said hi, okay?"

"Just be careful yourself, Joaquín, warned Joseph," who looked to have an inkling as to what his grandson was planning.

"Don't worry, I said. The only thing you gotta worry about is if those chickens blow up before they're fried." And with that, he ventured into the jungle, keeping an eye for that signature pillar of silver hair. It didn't take long to venture through the foliage and find him sulking atop a small rock overlooking a part of the beach. The sun was already setting behind the grey clouds that reflected the poor man's heart at the moment.

He didn't say a word as he took a seat beside his friend, who didn't look his way. There were mercifully no tears on his cheeks or water in his eyes, but his expression was quite mournful. After a moment of silence, Joaquín said in an understanding tone "I was there too. Don't forget about that, Jean Pierre. I felt horrible that I was there while that bastard shot Mohamed. But if he were here right now, he wouldn't want either of us to sulk about and wonder what could have been."

"I know that," Jean Pierre muttered. "And I know that I wasn't the one who killed him. It was Sherry's killer that led to his death. Had he not been there, Avdol would have melted that bullet. Sure, I avenged his death and my sister's, but I still feel responsible. Now more than ever… I mean… how is this going to happen..? With Avdol's old man..? Where do I even begin..? "

"Well… You can start by giving him a hug. After all, he's- Huh?"

He was about to tell him the wonderful truth when something caught his eye. Something sparkling and half-buried in the sand. It looked like a golden teapot, infested with barnacles. But it looked too old and too bizarre to be one... "What the hell is that..?" And before Joaquín could get up to get a better look, Jean Pierre had already gotten up and approached it. "H-Hey, don't touch that!"

"And why not," he asked with the air of a boy being denied his mother's cookies.

"Because it could be dangerous. Think about it, what good ever came out of either of us touching weird and out of place things? You got attacked by a vengeful doll and I got trapped in my worst memory."

"But this is neither." He then knelt and lifted it out of the sand. Once Joaquín had stood up as well, he could see that it wasn't a teapot at all. It was an oil lamp, glistening in the light of the setting sun. "Just look at how old this is. It must have been washed up here from a shipwreck or something. Who knows for how long."

As old as it did look, he still felt unease from it. Even as he approached Jean Pierre, he just couldn't trust it. Not its beauty, not the age, not even the odd, beast-like face protruding from the side of it. Something within him wanted to call out Preciosa and obliterate the lamp.

"Say, what was that about Avdol's father?"

Joaquín's mind snapped back to attention, noticing that his friend was now wiping some barnacles off with his wristband. "Oh, sorry," he said, shaking his head to clear him of his mounting doubt. "I was, er, gonna say that he's-"

"W-What the hell?!"

And he was cut off again by the golden treasure, which shook in his friend's hand. The light emanating from it seemed to be its own, glowing brighter. And hot. Joaquín could feel a powerful heat coming from it. His friend must have felt it too, for he immediately let go. Just as he did, smoke erupted from the spout of the lamp. It could have been just the smoke and the light, but he could have sworn he'd seen something large and inhuman coming out as well.

The two fell back on the sand for a moment but immediately sprang to their feet. The dust had settled, but there was nothing in sight but the lamp stuck in the sand again.

"W-What was that just now," Jean Pierre almost yelled, his eyes glued on it again.

"I don't know," answered Joaquín, now holding a defensive stance. "But I told you not to touch it! What if it was dangerous?!"

"It's clearly not... I-I guess it was just had some air clogged in it. Me wiping it must have disturbed it or something."

Joaquín scoffed. "What, were you expecting a genie to pop out like in that story _Aladdin_?"

"Kind of." He turned to him with a smile, his somber mood now behind him. "A shame, really. We could have gotten ourselves a wish just for letting one out."

"THEN HOW ABOUT THREE?"

The duo turned to see something large and robotic standing behind them. If they could call it a robot. Upon its magenta body were cream-colored limbs, large, shoddy shoulder pads, and a bizarre head sporting green, lamp-like eyes. It stuck out three fat fingers and spoke to them in his robotic, enthusiastic voice like some game show host. "THREE! TELL ME YOUR WISHES! AND I'LL GRANT THEM FOR YOU! WHATEVER THREE DESIRES YOU HAVE!"

Both Silver Chariot and Preciosa emerged from their users, primed and ready to fight. "Who the hell are you," Joaquín shouted, not at all trusting this mechanical being. He knew precisely what he was.

"MY NAME IS CAMEO," he answered, unfazed by the Stands or the edge in Preciosa's user's voice. "I WANNA THANK YOU FOR FREEING ME FROM MY LAMP. AND AS SUCH, I OFFER YOU BOTH THREE WISHES. I'LL GRANT ANYONE YOU WANT."

"Y-You're a new Stand user," announced Jean Pierre, having thought the same as his friend. Both Silver Chariot and Preciosa attacking Cameo with sword and fists respectively. But rather than being gouged or dented, the clunky robot effortlessly blocked every single blow with his hands. And with such speed! It almost matched them both. With an opening in his sights, Cameo, swung his arm at the same time the others did, making the uses stagger back with a shaking arm.

Not only was he fast, but he was rather strong. Which only meant one thing…

"You're close by," stated Jean Pierre, having regained his bearings. That's why your Stand is so strong! So where the hell _are_ you?!"

Cameo crossed his arms and asked, "IS THE ANSWER TO THAT QUESTION YOUR FIRST WISH? ARE YOU OKAY WITH ASKING FOR SUCH A BORING WISH?"

"What do you mean by 'three wishes'?! Why do you keep saying you can grant wishes?"

"Maybe because he believes he can," muttered Joaquín to Jean Pierre, still on guard as he and Preciosa eyed Cameo cautiously. "So you know what we should do, Jean Pierre?"

"Kick his ass?!"

"After. But let's see if he's _really_ a wish-granter." He then spoke to the robotic Stand floating wistfully before them. "Okay, Cameo, or whatever you're really called… We'll humor you and ask for a wish. Let's start with something simple, shall we?"

"IF YOU SO CHOOSE," he said patiently.

"Hm… Let's see…" He thought for a moment about what most people would immediately wish for. Only one word came to mind: money. Every person would jump at the opportunity to become financially stable with plenty of money to last them their entire lives. And it was a simple wish to grant. "Okay then, make us millionaires."

"IS THIS YOUR FIRST WISH?"

"Hold on a second," Jean Pierre butted in. "Why would you want that much money?"

"I don't," assured Joaquín, looking back at him. "It's a test, just to see if he's bullshitting us or not. I mean, money's nice. But I'd probably just give a good chunk away if this actually does come true." He set his sights back to the "genie". "Go ahead. If you can really grant wishes, then make us both millionaires."

Cameo didn't even hesitate when he said. "VERY WELL. IT'S BEEN GRANTED."

"What?" He wasn't expecting that answer.

Clouds of smoke hissed out from all over him, clouding himself from everyone's vision. And through the noise, Cameo's voice boomed loud and clear, as if they've won a grand prize."

"HAIL!

"TO!

"YOU!"

And with that, the smoke cleared, and the men were once again left all on their lonesome. Cameo was nowhere to be found. What's more, there was no sign of any money. Not even a feeling of their bank accounts fattening. While his trust in the Stand was nonexistent and could care less about becoming rich, Joaquín felt just a twinge of anticlimax from the grandiose display.

"W-What was that just now," exclaimed a flabbergasted Jean Pierre, picking up the lamp off the sand.

 _Geez, all that for nothing..._ Looking over to his friend, he had no doubts Jean Pierre thought the same thing. _I guess he was just nothing but hot air, just like his smoke. Still, I gotta wonder… why didn't he attack us? Except for when he blocked us, he made no active plans to strike… He just kept going on about granting wishes… Maybe he was just trying to trick us… Either way, we both gotta be careful… There's another person here besides Mohamed…_

Which Jean Pierre _still_ didn't know.

 _But as much as I wanna tell him now, I gotta hold off on that. We gotta find out if this Stand's friend or foe first… Cause if I just blurt out Mohamed's alive and this guy turns out to be working for Dio, we're fucked..._ "Hey, Jean Pierre," he addressed his friend, who tossed the lamp over his shoulder like rubbish. "I think we should let my _abuelito_ know about this."

"You think Avdol's father might have something to do with this?"

Before Joaquín could tell him why he doesn't think this, there came the distinct sound of an oil lamp striking something metallic. It managed to catch their attention. Curious as to what happened, they looked through the brush where Cameo's lamp disappeared to. It was there, and so was the golden hilt of a sword, coins, and an almost completely buried chest.

" _Sacre bleu_ ," gasped Jean Pierre, who didn't waste any time digging through the sand. It was an incredible sight. Within the chest he unearthed was a mass of ancient golden coins, mixed together with chalices, swords, and other beautiful jewels. "These are... These are Napoléons! Francs from when Napoléon ruled France! This isn't some hallucination… _Or_ a dream..! It's real! It's genuine, real treasure! H-He's gotta be mocking us!"

Joaquín knelt and picked up one of the swords, waving it carefully before his eyes. It felt so real, all of it. Everything before them was enough to make them millionaires ten times over. _It feels like he_ is _mocking us_ , he thought before giving an experimental slash to the air. _Like all this is just too good to be true… But if he was, then why is this treasure here? It doesn't look like it's always been here… At the same time, it's not like it's just been buried… Just what gives with this Stand..?_

"TELL ME YOUR SECOND WISH," came the voice of Cameo from above. He was sitting patiently atop a palm tree. "AND I SHALL GRANT IT."

Jean Pierre swiftly became defensive when he saw the Stand again. "B-Bastard… Just what are you planning?! Whatever you have in store, we aren't falling for it! If you're really an enemy, then come down and fight us like one! Or we really take this treasure!"

Once again, Cameo asked, "IS THE ANSWER TO THAT QUESTION YOUR SECOND WISH? ARE YOU OKAY WITH ASKING FOR SUCH A BORING WISH? I TOLD YOU, AS THANKS FOR FREEING ME FROM MY LAMP, I WILL GRANT YOU ANY WISH."

"So you're actually serious about this," muttered Joaquín as he drove the blade back into the sand. "I'll give you props, whether you're friend or foe…" He turned his attention to Jean Pierre. "If you wanna make a wish, go ahead. I have mine, but I'd rather work towards them."

"What do you wish for," asked his friend.

"Something that can't be wished for easily. It's okay." He waved his hand dismissively. "I can grant that myself."

"Hm… Alright…" He looked back at the Stand and pointed at him, his expression turning from serious to almost excited. "Alright! My next wish… is to become a cartoonist! I've wanted to ever since I was a child! I wanna appeal to kids more than Disney ever could! I don't want to be some miserable artist! Famous enough to create my own 'Polnareff Land'!"

The uncharacteristic giddiness in his voice was rather amusing to see. It reminded him of how excited he got around women.

" _Non! Attends une minute, attends…_ I want a girlfriend instead!" Such a sudden change to the same thing he was thinking actually made Joaquín bust out laughing. The Frenchman gave him a brief scathing look before going back to explaining his wish, putting emphasis on his words. "Love is far more important than fame and fortune, after all! Someone amazing and cute, bound by the red string of fate! A girl whose feelings and interests are like mine!

"So if you can _really_ do that, then do it now, damnit!"

The Stand stared unblinkingly at him. "A GIRL, EH," he asked. "VERY WELL-"

But again, Jean Pierre dismissed it, rubbing his head as if the thought of getting his deepest desires granted made it hurt. "No, wait… Just… wait a minute…"

"Hey, don't stress about it," consoled Joaquín. "Thinking about a wish shouldn't be a cause for a headache. Just think of something that comes to mind. No matter what it is."

There was silence for a moment. The gears in Jean Pierre's mind seemed to be moving in high gear, trying to decide what the perfect wish would be. He looked very nervous as he did though. While his friend couldn't tell what was going through his mind, he was certain that what he was thinking would be a difficult wish to make. After he finished mulling it over, he finally whispered something that wiped the smile off Joaquín's face.

Something that froze his heart.

"Can you… revive the dead?"

And once again, "IS THE ANSWER TO THAT QUESTION YOUR SECOND WI-"

"No!" This time, it was Joaquín who interrupted frantically. "No, it's not! Jean Pierre, out of all the things you could ask for, asking to bring back the deceased is the stupidest, most dangerous wish you could ask for!"

"And why is that," asked Jean Pierre, his brow furrowed and their noses an inch apart. "How would you know?! How would you know he wouldn't give back the ones I've lost?!"

"You ever read that one story called _The Monkey's Paw_? Look, I know the first wish was a success. I personally don't care about how that treasure got there. But… messing with the dead has severe consequences. It's tempting with nature and fate. And I've seen and read enough to know that your wish, for _who_ you want to bring back to life, can backfire horrifically on you. Now get your head on straight and get out of my face."

He heeded his request, but his face was set. "I want to see my sister again… And Avdol… Think about it, Joaquín… Don't you want to speak to him at least one more time..?"

"But you don't-"

"And don't you want to just hug him when you see him?"

"I mean-"

"Then why don't you just have him come back and spend the day with him the way I want to do with Sherry?! It's such a simple wish!"

"Jean Pierre, that's not the problem! That wish is utterly impossible!"

"Just watch me!" He turned to Cameo and tossed him a photograph of a beautiful woman with long black hair. "Bring my sister Sherry back to life! And our friend Avdol! See if you can do that!"

Joaquín shook his head, slowly losing his temper. "Jean Pierre, I told you, that wish is impossible because-"

"VERY WELL," interrupted Cameo with certainty "IT'S BEEN GRANTED."

"What?!" He wasn't expecting that answer either.

Once again there was smoke, and his voice could be heard clearly through the hiss. "HOWEVER, YOU ASKED FOR TWO THINGS AT ONCE JUST NOW. THAT COUNTS AS TWO WISHES, SO I HAVE TO GRANT THEM BOTH SEP-"

"HOLD IT!" Preciosa was immediately out, and the smoke stopped fuming out. The Stand looked inquisitively at the frog-like warrior boring his eyes onto him. With a calm tone, Joaquín said to him, "How do you know Mohamed Avdol is dead?"

Cameo tilted his head. "BECAUSE I CAN SEE HIM WITHIN YOUR HEARTS. YOU BOTH FEEL IMMENSE GUILT FOR LETTING YOUR CLOSE FRIEND DIE FOR YOUR CARELESS MISTAKE BACK IN INDIA. BUT BY REVIVING HIM, YOU BOTH CAN HAVE A CHANCE TO MAKE AMENDS!"

"See, on any other day, I would believe that. But there's one thing you didn't account for." He pointed straight at him and raised his voice. "Mohamed Avdol is still alive! And trying to bring back someone who is still alive proves to us that you're nothing but another of Dio's expendable dogs!"

"WHAT," exclaimed both the Frenchman and the "wish-making" Stand.

"That's right. Hol Horse's bullet only grazed him. Mohamed survived that little attempt on his life, and he's been recovering since. He's just been able to stand three days ago and came here. He's alive and well. And you saying you can revive him just proved that you're indeed our enemy. Not to mention what you were about to do is very disrespectful to our friend."

There was silence, broken only by Jean Pierre's confused babbling. He would have to explain everything once this was over. Cameo simply chuckled and floated down from his perch, clapping all the while. "WELL, THAT'S SOMETHING I WASN'T EXPECTING," he admitted. "SO MUCH FOR HOL HORSE'S AIM. AND FOR MY SCHTICK. I WAS REALLY ENJOYING GIVING YOU GUYS WISHES, EVEN IF THEY HAVE NO VALUE."

"W-What do you mean by 'no value," stammered Jean Pierre, even more confused.

"YOUR 'WISHES' CAME FROM THE EARTH. LITERALLY. I CAN SHAPE IT AND TURN IT INTO WHATEVER YOUR HEARTS DESIRE. WANT TO BE RICH? I CAN TURN DIRT INTO FAKE GOLD. WANNA BRING BACK THE DECEASED? I CAN MOLD CLAY INTO WHOEVER YOU WANNA SEE AGAIN. THERE'S NOTHING I, JUDGMENT, CAN'T MAKE FROM ONE'S POOR AND HASTY DECISIONS."

"So let me take a guess as to what you were gonna do," said Joaquín, Preciosa cracking his knuckles and preparing for the impending beating he'll deliver. "If I hadn't interrupted that wish, you would have brought back copies of Sherry Polnareff and Mohamed and turned them against us. Am I right."

"YES. BUT WHO SAID YOU INTERRUPTED ME?"

The ground before them rose and broke apart, two figures slowly digging themselves out. The first was a beautiful, limber, and completely naked woman with long, flowing black hair. The second was the robed figure of a black man neither have seen since that fateful day in India. But these two were not Sherry and Mohamed. Their origin and the disfigured region around one of their blind, hungry eyes proved otherwise.

"HAIL TO YOU," cried their master, and they sprang to their prey unquestioningly. Preciosa wasted no time either, a stream of " _¡T_ _OMATOMATOMA!_ " emphasizing the pummeling of his fists. The clay replica of Mohamed crumbled at the might of Joaquín's Stand, nothing left behind. Sherry, meanwhile, had leaped straight for her deceased counterpart's older brother. He was frozen in place, eyes widened in fear and grief. It was clear that couldn't bring himself to hurt her.

"Jean Pierre, use your Chariot," called out Joaquín. "She's not the real Sherry! Your real sister wouldn't want you to die to her fake!"

This seemed to work, his grief replaced by burning determination. His Silver Chariot burst from within him and diced the impostor to irrecoverable bits. The Stand users and their spirits stood side by side, each looking up at their bemused enemy. And together, they smirked and growled, " _En guarde…_ "

Judgment simply chuckled as more earth began to crumble around them. And this time, more Sherrys and Mohameds rose with the intent to kill them. It was Pakistan all over again, only without the stench of death. The two roared and drove through the horde, breaking and slashing apart everything they could reach. But with each one they destroyed, three more emerged to take over. And as relentlessly as they fought, the duo was slowly starting to run out of steam.

"G-God, how many of these things are there," panted Joaquín, avoiding a swipe and slamming one of the Sherrys back to the ground. "I'm kinda getting tired here!"

"I don't know," growled Jean Pierre as Silver Chariot decapitated a Mohamed. "But I swear, I'm going to tear off that damn Stand's head off with mine's own hands!"

Cameo simply laughed and hovered above them. "OH, YOU CAN ONLY HOPE. SO LONG AS I HAVE A GOOD SUPPLY OF EARTH, I COULD CREATE AN ENTIRE ARMY OF GOLEMS TO HOUND YOU DOWN! GO AHEAD! KEEP FIGHTING! KEEP EXHAUSTING YOUR ENERGY! IT DOESN'T MATTER WHAT YOU DO! VICTORY IS ALL MINE!"

For a moment, Joaquín was ready to believe it. He could feel the power in his Stand's punches weakening with each second. Everyone was too far away to come and help them, and by the time their voices would reach their ears, it'd be too late. But then he could sense someone else nearby, along with a familiar hear growing ever closer…And his hope for victory was reassured.

"DUCK," he shouted, and Jean Pierre instinctively did so. Nearly grazing them both was a massive ankh wreathed in flames. It roared straight into the stunned crowd of clay minions, crumbling and melting from the intense heat. Judgment, who was in the line of fire, floated out of its path before it dissipated. Everyone's eyes turned to the one who did it, the man whose image half the golems mimicked. His finger was ablaze with a sole flame, which he waved and snuffed out as he clicked his tongue.

"YOU'VE GOTTA BE KIDDING ME," groaned Judgement.

"Oh, you _better_ fucking believe it," happily exclaimed Joaquín.

"Mohamed Avdol," Jean Pierre shouted in shock.

The fortune-teller brought his finger down and exclaimed, "YES! I AM!" Standing proud behind him was Magician's Red, glaring at the offending copies of his master. As he burned them down to nothing, Mohamed approached the two and helped them to their feet, speaking in his ever-so calm and deep voice. "It seems that no matter where we are, I always end up having to save you both."

"Maybe," chuckled Joaquín, brushing off his clothes of some sand. "But we weren't looking for trouble this time."

"Of course. You look different, by the way. As if something heavy has been lifted from your heart. You've grown.

"You're kinda right on that one."

"And, Polnareff," and at the mention of his name, the Frenchman looked nervous, "I am afraid to say you haven't. Your thoughts still dwell on your little sister, and as such, you continue to face the consequences of doing so. You must move on, my friend." He smiled and patted his shoulder. "Still… It is great to see you again."

Jean Pierre wiped his eyes and gave him a warm smile. "My third wish actually came true," he choked out.

"As for you," his and the others attention turned to Judgment, who flinched when the fortune-teller pointed to him. "You say you are Cameo of the 'Judgment' card, correct? Fighting you is my top priority. And through that, I will pass my judgment upon you: straight into the pits of hell. Hell to you!" To have his words twisted made the Stand grunt in amusement. "'Mohamed Avdol is still alive.' Quite the bad news. Enough to inform Dio and the other Stand users right away, correct?"

"ACTUALLY, IT'S PRETTY AMAZING NEWS," Judgement said unworriedly. "HOWEVER, I'M GONNA HAVE TO TWIST THAT NEWS WHEN I DELIVER IT. HOW'S HIS SOUND? 'AVDOL MIGHT HAVE SURVIVED, BUT CAMEO'S JUDGMENT KILLED HIM AND POLNAREFF, AND JOAQUÍN AT THE SAME TIME!' OH, HOW LOVELY TO CHANGE THAT TO GOOD NEWS!"

"Or so you think… Magician's Red!" The bird-headed Stand swung his flaming claws at the robotic one, who swiftly dodged the strike. Judgment grabbed one of the Sherry's by the hair and threw it like the doll it was, right at his attacker. It crumbled when Mohamed's Stand cloaked itself in flames, but the impact was enough to make the fortune-teller stagger backwards.

"HAIL TO YOU," Judgement exclaimed happily as his creation floated down to Earth in flaming pieces.

"B-Bastard," shouted Jean Pierre angrily. "That might have been a fake, but it's still in my sister's image! My sister, damnit!"

Mohamed carefully stood up, his Stand still behind him. "This man… his Stand has considerable power…"

"Not to mention fast," added Joaquín. "We tried to attack him earlier and he just deflected everything. Even Preciosa." Their enemy simply chuckled. "But that doesn't mean we can't beat you, you bastard!"

"AVDOL," said the Stand, ignoring Joaquín's threat. "WHY DON'T YOU TELL ME YOUR 3 WISHES? I'LL GRANT THEM THIS TIME BEFORE YOU DIE… COME ON! TELL ME YOUR THREE WISHES!"

He's playing with us again, thought Joaquín angrily. And he thinks Mohamed's gonna fall for it!

Said fortune-teller did not hesitate when he said, "Give me four instead."

"WHAT?!" Nobody had expected _that_ answer.

"That is my wish. For my three wishes to become four."

"BASTARD… WHAT KIND OF JOKE IS THAT..?"

"Are you denying my wish, Cameo?!" Magician's Red flared with the rage of his master. "I gave you one! And you will keep your promise!"

"AVDOL! COMPARING YOUR POWER TO MINE IS STILL USELESS!" They both attacked, Judgement with his fist, Magician's Red with his flaming leg. Joaquín expected them to reach a standstill until the armor of the robotic Stand shattered upon being struck. And that made him finally scream in pain.

"That was my first wish," said Mohamed, "to make you vocalize your pain. And it came true."

Judgment floated back, his bravado crumbling like his creations had. "I-IMPOSSIBLY STRONG! YOU'RE STRONGER THAN WHAT WE WERE BEFORE!"

"That was nothing. My back has not healed yet from the stab wound from 's Hanged Man. That was why I did not use my full power, because I was protecting it. I was just able to stand back in India three days ago. I then took an airplane here, and up until now, my journey has gone without any complications. Now, for my second wish..!"

Magician's Red flew behind Judgment and choked him with a chain of flames, hard enough to make those green eyes shatter. He backed away and shrieked at his misfortune.

"Is to make you shriek in fear! And lastly, my third wish..!" Magician's Red delivered one final kick to his back, crumpling and sending the broken, howling Stand flying, "is to make you howl in regret!" With that final blow, Judgment had clearly had enough. Without so much as another word, the Stand disappeared in his usual cloud of smoke. The clay figures who had watched the incredible display of power soon crumbled, unable to fight now that their master had been bested.

Joaquín, who had been grinning ear to ear the whole time, finally spoke, "No matter how many times I see your Stand in action, I'm always amazed at what he could do. That was so awesome!"

"Thank you," said Mohamed with a smile of his own. Their Stands returned to their masters and faded. "But I am afraid we are not done here. With his power and speed… the Stand user himself must be close by. Such is the essential rule of Stands."

"But where could that bastard have run off to," Jean Pierre nearly shouted, to which Mohamed shushed him. He led the two through the bushes carefully, his head turning here and there as they searched around for the user. They didn't go too far before finding something peculiar sticking out of the ground. It looked like a bamboo pipe, about two feet out and unmoving. Curious, they all squatted before it, Mohamed taking a nearby leaf and placing it upon the hole.

Something from below blew it off.

Everyone cast each other a perplexed look. Then Joaquín plugged the hole with his finger. It took a moment before he felt something struggling to draw in breath. When he freed it, there came a gasping from the pipe, and it became clear to them all. C _ameo's hiding under here, he realized. That bastard has been here the whole time… You son of a bitch… trying to trick us with phony wishes and getting Jean Pierre's hopes up. We'll give you hell… Hell to you!_

Speaking of Jean Pierre, it seemed he was thinking the same thing. This man, even in hiding, was still playing them. He was going to pay for his deception. And Joaquín had just the idea to play back at him. He looked around and began to pick up whatever he could find; dirt, sand, spiders, ants, and even a match. He spilled everything down the hole, which was forcefully blown and coughed out by the Stand user beneath them. They weren't done yet, however.

"Excuse me," Mohamed pardoned with a wry smile. "But has anyone went yet?"

"Went," asked Joaquín, his head tilted. "Went where?"

"You know exactly what I mean, Joaquín." He straightened himself up. "Come, boys! Let's do it together! We should all bond after being apart for so long! Come urinate with me!"

"U-Urinate?" He looked at him as if he lost his mind. But when he wagged his finger and clicked his tongue again, he knew exactly what he wanted to do. And it was hilarious. Without so much as another word, everyone undid their pants and relieved themselves, aiming straight into the tube. Out of the three, Mohamed seemed to be having the most fun, laughing all the while. "Hey, you okay Mohamed?"

"Of course I am! Come on, boys, laugh with me! It is proper manners to laugh while you urinate! So laugh with me! Laugh, boys! Wah ha ha ha ha!"

Jean Pierre smiled somewhat nervously. "A-Avdol," he said in slight amusement. "Did your personality change or something? Before now, you've never come up with something as vulgar as this!" His nervousness faded as he chuckled. "It must have been because of that head-shot you received back in India!"

In response, the fortuneteller lifted his headband, which revealed the healed-up, bullet-shaped scar across his forehead. He was still smiling. "Perhaps. Or maybe I just missed your silly actions so much that I wanted to do what you would have done in this situation."

And the three shared a hearty, genuine laugh, knowing that he was right. While what they did was crazy taking a leak together with their reunited friend was actually a nice little bonding experience. They both missed Mohamed, and Joaquín personally didn't mind what they did together. He was just glad to have him back.

The moment was almost ruined when the ground burst before them. A fat-lipped man with long, balding ginger hair dug his way out, gargling with urine and coated in dirt. He crawled out and immediately threw away his pipe and urine-filled swim visor in disgust, having had enough done to him. When Cameo turned to look at them, he shrieked and begged to them, "Oh god! Please forgive me!"

"And that is my fourth wish," said Mohamed, his mirth replaced with his familiar stoic seriousness. Magician's Red blazed to life beside him. "As for your wish, I cannot grant it for you. Because my Magician's Red… will not forgive you."

Cameo was left behind a burnt and defeated man.

~MOHAMED AVDOL: REJOINED~

~CAMEO: RETIRED~


	26. From A Distance

Ch. 26  
From A Distance

DECEMBER 27TH, 1988  
20:11  
ISLET IN THE RED SEA

The return trip was short, as was the explanation to Mohamed's survival. While he was stabbed back in India, he had looked up, making the bullet that would have killed him graze his forehead. The impact was enough to knock him unconscious, and it took about two days for him to awaken and begin rehabilitation. In the meantime, they had to keep his survival a secret not only to Dio and his men, but also to a now-disgruntled Jean Pierre.

"But why would you keep something like that from me," he asked, glaring at the two. "It would have at least spared me the mourning!"

"That's true," answered Joaquín. "But, to be honest, nobody could trust you not to brag to any of Dio's men. _Especially_ Hol Horse. It would have put Mohamed in danger, and then _you_ in danger from _us_. So we had to lie and put up an act. All of it, from the mourning to disguising him into his 'father' was all just an act. We couldn't spare any expense." He patted his friend's shoulder and flashed him an apologetic smile. "I was gonna tell you before we were attacked. Sorry for tricking you, buddy"

The Frenchman turned his nose in the air and sniffed. "Thanks for leaving me out, _buddy_." But they both knew he wasn't too serious. He was happy to have the fortuneteller back, just like the rest of them.

When they returned to the beach, everyone was still there. Joseph approached and worriedly asked, "Everyone, where have you been? What happened out there?"

" _You look as if you've all been fighting_ ," pointed out Noriaki.

" _Did you get attacked by an enemy_ ," asked Joutarou to his brother.

"And Mohamed is with you," exclaimed Della. "Jojo, did you tell Jean Pierre already?"

Joaquín held up his hands to try and calm them. "G-Guys, guys," he said hastily. "It's okay! Yeah, we got attacked and yeah, we explained everything to Jean Pierre. But we're fine. That bastard got taught a lesson, though, so he won't be following us any time soon."

"Oh, thank goodness. You should probably get your stuff. We'll be heading out soon."

"Actually, I think just to be safe, we should leave our stuff here for now. A sub's a sub, but on the off chance there's another aquatic Stand, we should keep the luggage here and try to have the Speedwagon Foundation deliver it."

Joseph sighed and shook his head, amused at his grandson's thinking. "The SPWF isn't a delivery system, you know. They'll do it, sure, but we can't rely on them all the time." He picked up his luggage, which was undoubtedly repacked with the rest of his belongings. "We'll leave them at the house for later. Just take what you need."

And so they did. By the time they had finished leaving their reclaimed luggage and returned to the beach, a large black and white submarine had emerged from the ocean. Mohamed, under the guise of an Arabian millionaire, had conspicuously bought them the submarine they had been planning to get since India. Seeing it up close in all its grandeur filled Joaquín with a sense of excitement. He had never ridden inside one before, and he was very eager to do so.

For some reason, he had half expected it to be yellow.

"So we're crossing the Red Sea in this, right," asked Joutarou casually as everyone slowly entered into the pristine mechanism from the hatch.

"We should go unnoticed to any pursuers," added Noriaki, looking around at the pipes that lined the submarine's inner structure. "Unless Joaquín is right in that one of them is aquatic."

"That's _if_ there is one," noted Della, hoping no such attack came as they traveled.

" _Mon dieu_ , this trip is costing us quite a bit," said Jean Pierre in shock. "Hey Avdol, you know how to steer this thing?

Joseph climbed down and announced, "I can take us there! Just leave everything to me!" He didn't have that air of cockiness he had when they rented the camels a while ago, or whenever he took the control of a plane. This time, his ability to guide them felt genuine, and his grandson felt greatly at ease. As he and Joutarou sat at the submarine's helm, everyone else took their seats around a table and relaxed. as the alarm above them blared as they submerged.

"So, is this everyone's first time being in a submarine," asked Della, to which everyone except Joseph answered with a yes. "Mine too. Before today, I've only ever been in cars, planes, trains, and that's it. And each new mode of transportation has been more thrilling than the last."

"It sure has been," agreed Joaquín. "Barring our flights, I've been having fun." As he said this, Jean Pierre was gazing over Joutarou's shoulder out the window, gleeful as a little boy. "We're clearly not the only ones, it seems. Hey, Jean Pierre, don't touch anything that's gonna send us crashing into some reef, okay? You don't wanna give my _abuelito_ another vehicle crash under his belt, do you?"

Everyone, even Joseph, laughed at the joke. Humor aside, the slow ride from the island towards Egypt was a relatively peaceful one. The submarine was built for the wealthy, offering comforts no other submarine would offer. There was a fridge, a coffee maker, plumbing, and even living quarters for whenever someone wanted to rest. Not to mention a sonar radar, which could detect sound waves in the water to give away any oncoming threats. And thus far, they were in the clear.

"But if we do end up attacked here," pointed out Joutarou, "We've nowhere to run. After all, we are almost 60 meters below sea level"

Despite his concern, Joaquín's brother relaxed just like the rest of them. They passed the time drinking soda from the fridge as they told stories. They even played several games of poker, a deck of cards having been bought by Joutarou some time ago. While everyone got a chance to play, most of the matches took place between the Joestar brothers. When they both played, things became serious. Two incredibly unbeatable poker-faces waging a no-stakes war of cards. Nobody else dared interfere.

It was 10 PM when the two were finishing their sixth game. Joaquín looked down at his hand, then back at his brother's. He had a full house, two jokers and three eights. A good hand, and he had no tell that would give away his chances of beating him. Neither did Joutarou, and it bothered him somewhat. He had won all five games, all while keeping that same, silent expression on his face. Just once, he would have liked to beat him.

 _He's only got a handful of combinations he'll need to beat me_ , thought Joaquín, _but it's too late to draw now… I think I'm comfortable with this hand. I hope for his sake he is too…_

" _Ready on your end, bro_ ," asked Joaquín, glancing up at his stone-faced brother, who grunted in response. Taking that as a yes, he called out, " _Showdown!_ " His hand slammed onto the table, revealing what he hoped would beat him. And then Joutarou's straight line of a mouth twisted into a shit-eating grin as he showed off his hand. All four kings and a ten. The elder of the two fell out of his seat in defeat. " _H-How the fuck do you keep winning_ ," he asked in exasperation from the floor.

" _Luck, I guess_ ," was all he could say. " _Or maybe you're just not that skilled when it comes to poker._ "

" _Bullshit! I've played poker loads of times back in New York, and I've never been beaten this badly!_ "

" _I wasn't cheating._ " And that was the truth. With both of them being Stand users who could see even the minutest of movements, cheating would have been completely impossible. And it wasn't like their Stands weren't invisible to one another, either. " _I think you just need to get better at this. Then maybe you would have half a chance to beat me._ "

" _Why you-_ "

"Hey, can you two quit the fighting over there," barked Joseph as he was punching in a number on the submarine's satellite phone. "I have a call to make, and it's of a delicate matter. So everyone just shut it!" He waited for a moment and then spoke in a more tender, rehearsed tone, "How's my darling Suzie today?"

Joaquín immediately perked up when he heard that greeting. _T-That's my other_ abuelita _!_ _His wife! No wonder he said it was a delicate matter!_

"R-Right, well, that's because I'm in a hotel. I'm sorry, sweetie, but I don't think I'll be home for a while now. Some business came up in Africa, and I have to take care of it. You understand, right? … S-Sorry, love. By the by, has Holly gotten in touch with you lately?"

Now it was Joutarou and the others who's attention was piqued. His older brother had a feeling their mother would have been brought up, though he wished she wasn't. She was suffering, he could feel it. And the more time they wasted, the faster she would slip. Joaquín would never forgive himself if that happened.

As Joseph spoke casually to his wife, Jean Pierre pulled up a seat. As did the rest of them. "So this is the delicate matter he was hollering about," he whispered so as not to interrupt him.

"Of course," Mohamed replied in his low voice, having joined the others from his seat at the helm. "Madame Joestar is a woman of boundless vitality, so every now and then, Mr. Joestar has to check up on her to make sure she doesn't visit her ill daughter in Japan."

Della's eyes widened slightly. "Y-You mean she doesn't know," she stuttered.

"Of course," answered Joaquín matter-of-factly. "If she's anything like I've heard, she's the kind of woman who shouldn't have to worry about this like us. Mom's sickness is our business... Besides, I wouldn't wanna hear that she had a heart attack or anything from stressing out over this… I don't wanna know I lost another _abuelita_."

His girlfriend immediately embraced him, which he returned. As someone who lost her family, she understood exactly what he was going through. After all, his family was, in a way, hers as well. Joaquín, who felt thankful for having someone like her to understand, silently thanked her.

"... best that Holly return to her normal life after all this," he overheard his grandfather speaking to the Joestars' butler. "Keep all of this from Suzie, no matter what. I'll keep in contact, Roses." Joseph hung up and stood there in silence. It was clear how hard it was to continue to lie to his wife. Everyone could feel it.

" _You have our condolences, Joestar-san_ ," solemnly whispered Noriaki.

"Don't worry about a thing," Jean Pierre stated fiercely. "We're all behind you. Egypt's right within reach.

"We _will_ defeat Dio and save Mrs. Holly," announced Mohamed with stoic confidence. "I have not rejoined you for nothing, Mr. Joestar."

The aged man stood silent and then sighed, "Of course. Thank you, everyone." His eldest grandson stood from his chair and went over to pat his back consolingly. "And thank you, Joaquín. Avdol's right… We're gonna save your mother."

"I know," he said with confidence. "Now come on, _Abuelito_. Let's all try to take our minds off that and play some poker."

The rest of the trip was more subdued after that important call. Poker soon lost its flare, and everyone soon began doing their own thing. Mostly resting, as it was very late. Mohamed and Joseph took turns piloting, although they did let Jean Pierre take over once. It only took two screeching bumps against some rocks for him to be thrown out of the captain's seat.

Around 4:50 in the morning, Joaquín and Della were slowly roused by the smell of coffee brewing in the submarine's built-in coffee maker. He normally didn't drink coffee, but after his rest, a steaming cup of it sounded wonderful. The two sat up and stretched as Jean Pierre playfully demanded, "Hey, give me some coffee! I'm so thirsty!"

" _If you're going to complain, then make it yourself_ ," snapped Noriaki with little annoyance as he went to get them all cups. " _We'll have to do without cream or sugar, unfortunately… I hope everyone's okay with that._ "

Before there was any response, there came a sound of surprise by Mohamed. He was looking through the periscope in the middle of the cabin when he turned to them all with a large smile. "Hey, everyone," he called excitedly. "We are almost there! I can see the coast of Africa just up ahead!"

There was no need for coffee now, everyone immediately perked up with the announcement. The fortune-teller stepped away and pulled out a map from his robes, everyone gathering to look at it. He pointed towards where they were in the sea. "In this area of the coral reef is a naturally eroded tunnel we can pilot through. There is an exit that reaches inland at 200 meters. We can disembark there."

"So this is finally, it," breathed Joaquín, goosebumps all over his neck. "Egypt… We're practically there… God, this has been a crazy journey… I can't wait until this is over…"

"Neither can I," said Joseph, who had taken a quick glance through the periscope before raising it. "But we still have a ways away before we reach land. Now, let's have that coffee."

They all turned back to the table and took their seats. Noriaki had already set the table with their cups of steaming hot coffee. However, nobody touched them. There was a massive problem, and everyone could clearly see it.

" _Hey, Kakyouin_ ," Joutarou said after a momentary silence. " _Why are there eight cups out? There's only seven of us…_ "

" _That's funny_ ," Noriaki mumbled, lacking any mirth. " _I must not have been paying attention. I could have sworn it was seven…_ "

Just as he said this, Joseph had instinctively taken his cup to try and sip his drink. The ceramic burst apart and liquefied, a scowling face and two clawed arms appearing to spook the old man. Nobody had time to react when the creature took one swipe and cleaved the artificial hand clean off its owner. Dark oil sputtered from the wound, and as everyone tried to grasp what just happened, several metal fingers were thrown straight into his neck.

" _¡ABUELITO!_ "

" _JIJII!_ "

Both Joaquín and Joutarou rushed to their grandfather and caught him before he collapsed. Turning back to the table, the creature had landed and knocked off all the coffee. It turned to them and revealed itself as a creature with a pink, scowling tribal face and a formless, watery body that looked suspiciously hairy. Preciosa immediately manifested and punched into the table, but his blow was evaded. The creature had jumped out of the way, landing and dissolving into a gauge-lined console.

"It's gone," shouted Jean Pierre, hands slamming onto the console to try and find it. "I can't believe this! A Stand must have snuck aboard while we weren't looking!"

"It did not disappear," Mohamed growled. "It took on its form! Just like it did with the coffee cup!"

Dread filled everyone as they looked wildly around the room. They were once again dealing with a disguising Stand, only this one could turn into objects. And to Joaquín, that was far more dangerous than a mirror image of a person. They couldn't find it. It could be anywhere. For all they knew, it moved away from the gauges onto something else. They wouldn't know where it was until they were attacked again.

" _Merde_ , this is bad…" Jean Pierre looked out the window of the submarine and groaned. "We're already at the coral reef, and Egypt is so close!"

"Never mind that now," said Joaquín hurriedly, turning back to his injured grandfather in Joutarou's arms. The shock of his injuries had knocked him unconscious. "Bro, how's he holding up?"

Joutarou pressed his fingers to Joseph's neck and said, " _His pulse is normal._ " He then carefully removed the metal fingers, the wounds left behind thankfully not bleeding profusely. " _The wounds don't look too deep, either. I think the most damage is the lost hand_."

"So he's okay." Joaquín breathed a sigh of relief. "Good. Still, we gotta get this Stand before it goes in for the kill…"

"High Priestess," said Mohamed, a glint of realization in his eyes."It is the stand that represents 'The High Priestess'."

"Wait, you know about it?"

"I have heard of it. It's user's name is Midler, a gypsy, from what I understand. Her Stand can be remotely controlled from far away, so she is most likely above us on land. High Priestess has the ability to turn into anything made from minerals, from glass and metal to plastic and vinyl. Even if you touch or strike it, it is indistinguishable from its disguise until it strikes."

Joaquín growled as he looked back at the surrounding gauges. _Son of a bitch..._ _So it really_ can _be anywhere. The only chance we got now is to wait for an opening to beat the shit out of it._

Jean Pierre then asked the question that was surely on everyone's mind. "But how did that bitch get in here in the first place?!"

As if to answer, one of the gauges popped off the wall by a torrent of water. The submarine's alarm rang throughout the slowly flooding cabin. "Of course… It was simple! It must have drilled a hole and came in!"

Another alarm rang out from one of the consoles, which Mohamed immediately rushed to check. "Damn it," he worriedly swore. "It broke through the ballast tank, the submarine's flotation system! We are steadily sinking!"

" _And we're losing oxygen in here_ ," added Noriaki. " _It's impossible for us to keep navigating!_ "

"BRACE YOURSELVES! WE ARE GOING TO CRASH!"

Everyone immediately clung to the walls and the stationary table. Joutarou kept a firm grip on his grandfather thanks to Star Platinum. With Jean Pierre miserably howling, "OH MY GOD," the group had made crashing contact with the seabed. They were jerked by the dreadful impact but remained where they had held onto. Joaquín looked all around them to see that everyone was still okay, though left rather shell-shocked.

With a wavering voice, he said, "I knew this was gonna happen... I just knew it… _Por el amor de dio_ s, why does everything we ride in have to be wrecked?" He then turned to his brother, whose eyes were covered by his cap. " _Sorry if this ruins any chance of you wanting to study marine life._

" _I'll study from a fucking distance_ ," he grumbled. " _Maybe we should ditch_ jijii _here. I think he's a bad luck charm or something._ " Joaquín couldn't help but chuckle at his joke. " _Let's find out where that Stand is._ Niisan _, take_ jijii _real quick, would you?_ "

After taking their grandfather in his Stands arms, Joutarou turns to Noriaki and asked where amongst the gauges the Stand dissolved. When he pointed to the one he believed High Priestess took the form of, Star Platinum's arm and fist manifested before him. It was poised to strike it, waiting to see if it would pop up and go after him first. But it didn't. Out the corner of Joaquín's eye, he saw one of the blaring light fixtures morph back into the crazed Stand.

And it was right behind Noriaki.

" _Noriaki, look out behind you_ ," shouted Della as High Priestess jumped at him. The youth couldn't turn around enough in time to avoid it, his neck slashed as the Stand flew past. It landed back on the gauges, right in front of a furious Star Platinum. A gloved fist crashed into the console as the enemy leaped back into the air and morphed against one of the pipes above. It was too nimble for them to catch properly, and in an enclosed room like this, they were at great risk.

"Everyone get to the door," ordered Mohamed as the others backed away from where High Priestess hid. "I-It moved between the surfaces of the machinery while we weren't looking…"

"Of course it did," said Joaquín, looking over the wound on Noriaki. It wasn't too deep. "I knew it was gonna happen, too. The enemy wasn't gonna just stay in the same place just like that. I wanted to be wrong, but clearly I'm not."

"You are not at fault. We need to leave this room. The longer we stay, the more risk we face of being hurt again. Quickly, everyone! To another room!" He moved past everyone and grabbed the valve handle of the door that lead to the submarine's hall. "We have to confine and lock the Stand behind us!"

But High Priestess was one step ahead of the fortune-teller. The moment Mohamed grabbed the handle, the Stand's face and claws formed in his hands. It had moved unnoticed once again and took the shape of another fixture in the room. And this time, he was its target. Sharp claws lashed out at him, only to be grabbed by a pair of golden hands covered in black, fingerless gloves. Preciosa, faster than anyone could register, had moved out and grabbed the Stand the moment it had appeared.

"Alright, Jojo," cheered Della, Jean Pierre praising him as well.

"Yeah, you caught it," praised Jean Pierre.

"It was nothing," Joaquín dismissed, their enemy squirming and shrieking in Preciosa's grip. "This little pest might be quick, but it can't match Preciosa's speed. So, I'm up for suggestions. How do you think I should finish this off?"

"Look, don't hesitate, Joaquín! Just grab its neck and twist it off! Quick!"

" _Bueno._ Decapitation it is." As soon as Preciosa grabbed the small head upon the slimy creature, it shifted and transformed in his grip. Something sharp dug into Joaquín's hands, despite nothing was in them. When he looked down, he saw that his palms were cut open and bleeding. In his Stand's grip, High Priestess had turned itself into a large razor blade and dug itself into his hands.

" _Maldita sea_ ," he swore, throwing the Stand away as he grasped his bleeding, stinging laughing Stand simply turned back to normal and splattered itself against the roof of the cabin. _That bitch is a lot stronger than it looks_ , he thought bitterly. _If it can turn into a normal object like that and hurt him, then it can definitely beat us. Mohamed's right, we better run from this one…_

A stirring nearby signaled the awakening of Joseph, who held his head with his remaining arm. "D-Damn it," he grumbled as he freed himself from Joutarou's grip.

" _Jijii_ ," said his grandson with some worry in his casual voice. "How're you holding up?"

"I'm in pain and I'm missing a hand... It's Kahz all over again… So, I take it we won?" He turned to the older of the two brothers, who shook his head and washed his hands in the water. "Damn. So what next?"

"We find a way out of the submarine," said Mohamed hurriedly, opening the door to the hall outside the cabin. "Come, Mr. Joestar! Everyone!" As everyone ran out the best they could through the rising water, Joaquín straightened up and scathingly glared at High Priestess, who was slowly dissolving. "Joaquín, forget about it! It is already transforming and the cabin is flooding! Lock it behind you; we can come up with another battle plan later!"

"I'll be with you in a second," said Joaquín calmly, who knew that escaping was the best option for the time being. As his enemy's face was taking its time screeching and dissolving, he pointed straight at it as a warning. "You're not gonna stop us from reaching Egypt. I, Joaquín Trejo, will beat you myself."

And with that, he left the room and locked the water and the Stand behind him. He caught up with the others and ran together down the hall. "So what're we actually doing? Call me crazy, but I don't think we can just hold High Priestess in that room for long."

" _Joaquín_ _is right_ ," agreed Kakyouin. " _Between us and the Stand, I don't know who's really trapped. Sooner or later, it's going to tunnel its way out of there and catch us!_ "

"That is why we are escaping," Mohamed said hurriedly. "In a closed room filled with machinery, we are at an overwhelming disadvantage! Besides, this submarine is useless to us now! We must leave it behind and continue our path to Egypt!"

"But we're 40 meters below sea level," Jean Pierre pointed out. "It's not that deep, but how the hell are we going to resurface in Egypt?!"

"I thought that would be obvious to you, Jean Pierre," Della chided. "We're swimming out of here."

"SWIMMING?!"

Just as he screamed that, they piled into the small room where they had boarded hours prior. Above some metal ladders was the entry hatch. Beside that was a pipe that could fill the room with water if they wanted to leave underwater. And tucked away in a corner were full sets of scuba gear.

 _I wanna know who left this submarine stocked up for us_ , Joaquín thought as everyone tried to get the equipment on. _I have to thank them for all this._

"Are we _really_ going to scuba dive," asked Jean Pierre incredulously, looking at the apparatus at the end of a tube connected to the oxygen tanks strapped on him. "I've never done anything like this before."

"Neither have I," said Della, slipping on a pair of goggles. "But what other choice do we have? Just get ready so we can get out."

Joseph was having a tough time getting his gear on with just one hand. His eldest grandson helped get it in place for him, to which he said, "Thanks, Joaquín. Would've taken forever if I did it myself. God knows we're strapped for time." After securing the belt around his waist, his grandfather asked the group. "Okay, so does anyone here have any scuba diving experience?"

It was a unanimous no from everyone.

"High Priestess could be coming down the hall even as we speak," Mohamed said with an uncharacteristic worry in his tone. "Mr. Joestar, you have to teach us how, and quickly!"

"Don't panic, Avdol," said Joseph calmly, right before turning to everyone else. "Got it, everyone? Above all else, do not panic. When it comes to scuba, that's the biggest thing you all must heed. Now pay attention, cause we have little time."

Joseph then began to explain their equipment. The mouthpiece (regulator) was simple: bite down to take in oxygen. Exhaled air and saliva is released from a port on the side. Around their waists is a BC jacket ("I forgot what BC means."), which would make them weightless when they swim. Attached to the oxygen tank were a compass and two gauges that showed water depth and how much oxygen was left in the tank.

"While we're underwater," Joseph started explaining, "For every ten meters we go below sea level, the weight of the water is pressurized by one atmosphere. The sea's surface is one atmosphere… So being below forty meters, we're dealing with five atmospheres of pressure."

"What Mr. Joestar's trying to say is that we can't just try to surface all at once," added Della, putting her flippers on hastily. "If we even tried that, our lungs and blood vessels will expand and explode. I remember learning about that in high school."

"Exactly. I know we're in a hurry, but we have to surface slowly so our bodies could adjust. We're very close to Egypt's close at this point, so we can go up along the seabed. So, is everyone ready?" They all nodded, and Joseph went over to the large pipe. He turned the wheel on it and began to flood the chamber with water. "Alright then, it's time. And one last thing, since we obviously can't talk underwater, we should use hand signals to communicate with-"

"Actually, we can," interrupted Joaquín. "We can just use our Stands to talk. I used it when I fought against Dark Blue Moon, remember?"

"Oh right. Kinda forgot there."

"Aw, man," lamented Jean Pierre. "And I knew a good hand signal, too!" Wondering what he was talking about, everyone's attention turned to the Frenchman. His signal began with a clap.

Followed by him holding up two fingers.

Then the universal sign for "okay" (thumb and index together in a circle).

And ending with his hand over his brow.

Nobody could understand what he meant by all that. Yet somehow, Noriaki was able to interpret it. " _I can see your panties_ ," he asked. Happy someone could figure it out, Jean Pierre and the student both shared an odd, fist-bumping ritual. Joaquín felt just as confused as the others who beheld them.

"We could get attacked and killed at any moment," scolded Joseph incredulously, "so stop the bullshit and let's get a move on!"

The water had now risen to their chests. Everyone put on their goggles and their regulators as they slowly began to become submerged. Joaquín could start to feel the scuba gear do its job, the jacket around his sides keeping him as buoyant as a fish. It was an odd, yet somewhat calm feeling. He could only imagine if the others felt the same.

Joseph took the time to climb up the ladder and start opening up the hatch, stopping before it was completely open. He waited for a moment until the chamber was completely submerged before he opened the submarine to the sea outside. He signaled an okay to the others, who returned the gesture. Everyone except for Jean Pierre, who floundered about where he floated. There was blood floating around his mouth as his regulator slowly sprouted arms.

High Priestess had snuck in.

It bit down on Jean Pierre's lip, transforming back to its shapeless self as its prey struggled. To his and everyone else's horror, it began to crawl through his mouth. They needed to stop it immediately.

"Someone go drain the water," shouted Joaquín through Preciosa. "That Stand's gonna tear him up from the inside!"

"It is too late for that," said Mohamed dismally through Magician's Red. "Damnit! It was waiting for this moment!"

"Clear a path," commanded Della suddenly. Everyone moved out of the way as All My Love manifested herself beside her user. With a shout of, " _AMOR_ ," she shot a single bubble from her fist straight at High Priestess. Rather than bursting upon hitting the Stand, it engulfed it and separated it from Jean Pierre's lip. It couldn't escape, bashing and growling within its seal. "Bullseye! Now's our chance!"

Joaquín felt rather proud of her quick thinking. But there wasn't time to vocalize his gratitude. He motioned for the others to escape the now useless submarine, which they did as quickly as they could. Behind them, he could hear the pop of All My Love's bubble trap, the Stand gargling in anger and shifting. One brief backward glance showed that it was transforming into a long and sharp-tipped speargun. By the time it had finished and fired, they had all escaped and sealed the hatch from the outside.

" _Merde_ , that was close," sighed Jean Pierre in relief. " _Merci beaucoup, Della._ I owe you one after this."

"Don't thank me yet," she replied with a chuckle. "We've still gotta get to the surface.."

The group swam onwards from their abandoned vessel, Mohamed leading them through the cavern he mentioned earlier. His flames were useless underwater, so they all relied on the light of Joaquín and Della's _hamon_ sparking along their bodies to help guide them through. Once out, they spent the next couple of minutes swimming their way along the expansive reef. The fish that swam nearby paid them no mind. The whole environment brought about a relaxing sense of peace.

" _Cette mer est tellement belle_ ," muttered Jean Pierre, clearly admiring the view around them. "I'd like to come back here one day for leisure…"

"You're telling me," agreed Joaquín. "This is nothing like going to a beach. Everything here is so clear… Maybe once this is over we can all come here for a vacation."

Joutarou looked behind him, then back at Mohamed. "Oi, Avdol," he called out. "Do you think we're being followed?"

"Of course not," said the fortuneteller, taking a moment to turn back and look past the others. "High Priestess can only transform into minerals like metal or glass. It cannot take an organic form like these fish, nor can she mimic liquids or gases."

"That being said," added Joseph, "we should swim with caution. If it did actually escape and was pursuing us, then it would have already taken the shape of a screw on our gear and attacked. Just keep your Stands at the ready, and pay attention to any moving rocks. Those are made of minerals too, you know."

But there were no signs of them being followed at all. The entire time they swam was devoid of any sneak attacks from rocks or any metallic objects. Both Preciosa and Star Platinum, who were both kept out to watch behind them, saw nothing that would impede them.

It wasn't long before they came upon what looked like two tunnels leading into a singular, cave-like structure. Mohamed was the one to point it out, though Joaquín doubted they needed to cross it inside. He turned to his grandfather and asked, "Hey, Abuelito? How much farther do we have?"

With a glance of his depth gauge, he announced. "We're seven meters away!"

"Finally," Mohamed said with anticipation. "We are approaching the coast of Egypt! Now, everyone, let us swim up this rock formation. We will make landfall in a few minutes."

 _God, we're almost there. Egypt is just a ways away. I can't wait to get there… Dio… I hope you're ready, you son of a-_

" _What the hell?!_ "

Joutarou's sudden outburst snapped Joaquín out of his mind and to his brother. He and the others were looking down at the seabed they were floating above. There were gashes running all along it, with one deeper one splitting across from them. To his confusion, it split open and revealed a pitch black pit awaiting them. Then there came the sensation that they were all being sucked in. It was then that realization had struck hard. High Priestess had escaped and followed them.

And had taken the form of the seabed.

"SWIM FOR YOUR LIVES" he screamed as they all vainly tried to escape from the powerful suction of the Stand. _This can't be happening! That bitch Midler must be really close if it's this strong! Shit! It can't end here! I_ won't _let it end here!_ "DELLA, FIRE SOME BUBBLES AT THE OTHERS! PUSH THEM AWAY, QUICK!"

"What about you," she called back fearfully. He looked back at the gaping mouth for a moment before coming up with a dangerous plan.

"LEAVE IT TO ME!" Della didn't argue, her Stand punching at all of them and shooting several large bubbles at her friends. They grew upon impact and enveloped them, the force of being struck sending them out of the path of being inhaled. Both All My Love and her user formed a bubble around themselves and punched away from themselves against the filmy sphere. They too were sent out of High Priestess' range.

As for Joaquín, he and Preciosa were slowly being sucked into the black void of his enemy's mouth. But he wasn't afraid. He knew what he had to do to get out of this situation, and it wasn't to run. It was to fight back. There was only one way to do so, and it was to attack the inside of her mouth. It wasn't rock, as he knew the outside was. A quick glance through the darkness with Preciosa's eyes revealed flesh-lined walls, a uvula, and a massive slab of pink that was undoubtedly her tongue.

If he couldn't destroy the outside, then the inside had to at least be vulnerable. _The Legend of Zelda_ taught him that. With that rule of thumb in mind, he took one, deep breath through his regulator and focused his _hamon_. Both he and Preciosa glowed brightly with their power, which transferred over to his arms. He was getting closer. Now was his chance.

"CRESCENT _AZUL_ -" But before he could swipe the water and cut apart her mouth, her gigantic tongue shot out and struck him straight in the chest. Joaquín lost his focus and _hamon_ as he was sent flying back out of her mouth. But rather than escaping, he could see her teeth beginning to close. Before he knew it, he felt his own body wedged between two of her molars. He could feel the pressure of the teeth trying to bite down, to crush him into a red paste. But Preciosa was preventing his death by holding them apart with as much strength as he could. It was barely enough.

 _I don't know how long I could hold on like this_ , he thought as his arms trembled and ached from the mounting pressure. _This Stand… it's just too damn strong… I should have just ran like the others… Damnit, is this really how I'm gonna die? Crushed and eaten up? It can't end like this… We were almost there… I made a promise to make it back… I can't die here… not like this… Not like this..!_

Memories of his journey flooded Joaquín's mind. Everything he had experienced from them travelling through new countries, to all the battles and struggles they faced. The deaths he had witnessed, the fun he and his friends had… He wasn't ready for any of it to end… He had a mission to fulfill, and he promised to see it through to the end… His mother's life, his friends' lives… and the world… depended on him…

 _That's why… That's why I'm not gonna die… I'm a Joestar… and a Trejo… We don't give up… We either run or fight… And I will fight back..! I will live..!_

"BRING IT ON, YOU BITCH," he screamed out loud as Preciosa let go of both molars. He barely gave the Stand a chance to come down on him when his fists immediately started to break them apart. His Stand roared his usual " _¡TOMATOMATOMA!_ " as the tooth above him shattered and crumbled into powder. He didn't just stop there. Preciosa punched everywhere his fists could reach and broke every other tooth within a seven-foot radius.

It went without saying that his Stand was _pissed_.

In one final attempt to stop him, the howling High Priestsess' tongue shot out them like a frog's. But he was prepared this time. With one quick, focused breath, Joaquín's _hamon_ flared back to life again. Preciosa, who blazed with light as he punched, paused his rampage and swiped his arm at the incoming organ. "CRESCENT _AZUL_ OVERLOAD," shouted Joaquín, as a _hamon_ -charged blade of water rushed straight at the tongue and sliced into it.

With a pained scream, Joaquín knew he had bested his enemy. Blood flowed out from the roots of her gums. The inside of her mouth was slowly turning back to stone. He swam out immediately and joined the others, who cheered for his survival.

"That was incredible," laughed Jean Pierre.

"You nearly gave us a heart attack," cried Della as she embraced her boyfriend.

"That was a stupid stunt you just pulled," chided Joseph, who smiled down at his grandson. "But I'm glad you pulled it off nicely."

An exhausted Joaquín flashed them all a brief smile and said, "I honestly thought I was gonna die back there. That's the last time I pull of something that crazy. I can't believe it became the whole seabed. Its user must be just on the shore if her Stand got that powerful. But I guess she didn't count on her mouth or teeth being vulnerable."

" _We can worry about her when we get out of here_ ," chimed in Joutarou.

"You're right. Come on, guys! Egypt is waiting!"

After a short swim, their heads finally broke water to the surface. The group took off their goggles, regulators, and their gear as they slowly waded onto shore. Joaquín did a quick scan of the beach and found what looked like a gypsy dancer nearby. Her pale skin was bare to the world, save for being modestly covered by a blue, star-shaped bra and a yellow sash that matched the scarf upon her dark magenta hair and the veil over her mouth. She was sprawled out and twitching on the sand.

"Hey, is that her," asked Joaquín, pointing her out to his friends.

"Yes," confirmed Mohamed, whose Stand was helping to dry off everyone and their clothes with his flames. "That is Midler. So you were right after all. She _was_ close."

" _What should we do with her_ ," asked Noriaki. " _Is she really incapacitated?_ "

Jean Pierre leaned forward to try and look at her better. "I'm more worried about if she's beautiful or ugly," he stated curiously. "I'm gonna go get a closer look. And make sure she's also out of it. The Frenchman dashed over to the prone form of Midler and looked over at her face. One noise of disgust was enough to show he wasn't interested anymore.

"So, what's the verdict," asked Joseph, who was answered back by the now embarrassed Jean Pierre.

"N-No comment! I'm done looking over here! Joaquín busting that Stand's teeth ended up breaking hers! You can come over and look!"

"No, thank you. Is she out of commission?" He was answered by a nod. "Good… In any case… we're finally here."

The group had gathered together and looked out to the path ahead of them. There was nothing but an expanse of sand, rocks, and a few palm trees that could survive in such a hot environment. Further out, Joaquín could make out what looked like a town. Being on Egyptian soil made him feel more determined than ever before. They were on true enemy territory, where every turn could lead to another dangerous confrontation. And past all the traps that lied ahead, their goal was clearer than ever.

 _Dio..._ _He's here in this land… And he's been waiting for us… He must be pretty pissed we've come this far after beating the shit out of his minions… But those guys were nothing… Whatever he has in store for us now won't be so easy to beat… It doesn't matter, though. We'll still beat them all down…_

"What would have taken us twenty hours to get here by plane," stated Mohamed, "has taken us thirty days."

"That means we probably only have twenty more days until we're too late," added Della. "But we'll make it in time. Once we can get a clue as to where Dio is, our path will be set!"

" _We've been to so many places already,_ " said Noriaki, wiping some leftover sea water off his brow. " _Of course, Egypt can't be any stranger than being inside a brain or in someone's dream._ "

Everyone gave Noriaki a confused look. "Dream," repeated Jean Pierre. "What on Earth are you talking about?"

" _Oh, that's right. You all don't remember that, do you? Well…_ "

~+JO*JO+~

"Geb…

"Knum…

"Tohth…

"Anubis…

"Bastet…

"Sethan…

"Osiris…

"Atum…

"Horus…

"My nine glorious gods of Egypt… And yes, you as well, Hol Horse… Your gathering here within my domain is nothing short of a masterpiece. In fact, I believe if you ten were all to join forces and attack all at once, I don't think even I, Dio, would stand a chance against the likes of you… But I know better. You will never form teams… You will never form cliques… Such is the nature of Stand users and their secrecy… Of course, there are some minor… exceptions…

"Now, on the subject of why you stand before me… It has come to my attention that the Stand users of Judgement and High Priestess, the last of Lady Enya's henchmen, have dispatched themselves to top the Joestar group. It pains me to say that I have little faith in their victory in their uncoordinated state. They will undoubtedly be broken past… The Joestars will arrive in Egypt… I can feel it… That is where you lot come into play… You all have but one mission:

"Ambush them. Eliminate them… Should you fail to carry out this task, do not return… For you will suffer the full wrath of Dio…

"You all have your coordinates… Now go… Show them the glory of the gods… Show them no mercy…"

~MIDLER: RETIRED~


	27. Immigrés

Finally. Here we are, Ch. 27. The adventure in Egypt begins! So, as you all may have noticed, I had gone back throughout the story, updated A LOT. Then ended up with a fried laptop charger. Yet somehow, I managed to update my story five days later than when I thought I would. Not too bad.

I'm sorry for the wait, but I'm happy that I can still continue this story for you guys.

I would put up a link for Preciosa's artwork, but this site hates links. Check out my AO3 page for the link.

* * *

Ch. 27  
Immigrés

JANUARY 3RD, 1989  
11:57  
QESM SHLATIN, EGYPT

Egypt.

97% of this country's landscapes consist of nothing but deserts. It is one of the few regions in the world with the least amount of rainfall per year. However, thanks to the blessings of the Nile River and the fertile belt of land along the river bank, food is quite plentiful here. It is a mixed country as well, where various cultures such as the Persians, Greecians, Romans, Islamics and Arabians, joined together with the once ancient Egyptian civilizations.

In this eternal land, where time has flowed for 5,000 years, adventure awaited around every corner. As did danger.

Joaquín and his group were not in any immediate danger, but that did not mean they could put their guard down. He had no doubt that Dio had sent out his strongest after them. At any moment, they could end up ambushed. And yet, for the entire week they had been in Egypt since they arrived, they didn't. Not one assassin made themselves known. It was a miracle, one he knew would be too good to last no matter how he wished otherwise. Still, they were very grateful for their luck.

Travel had been slow as of late. And for good reason. Joseph had contacted the Speedwagon Foundation so as to reclaim their belongings, as well as graft a new artificial hand for him. The call was placed the same day they arrived in Egypt, and the delivery would take about a week. They decided on the coordinates and time for a meeting point, and until then, the group took shelter in each town they jumped, making sure they never stayed in the same place for too long.

Today, they had travelled out to their destination in the desert to wait for the foundation. They were to meet there at noon and retrieve their belongings before they continued on their way towards the Nile, whose bank they agreed to travel along.

"It's no safer than travelling through the desert," pointed out Joaquín to Della as his Preciosa kept an eye on their surroundings, "but at least we won't have to worry about lack of food or shelter."

"So it's a straight shot to Cairo from there," asked Della, who was adjusting her earrings.

"Yep. Mohamed and Noriaki both said they met him in and near Cairo respectively. It makes sense that we search for that bastard around there."

"And if he's not?"

It was a very harrowing possibility. He would be lying if he said he hadn't thought of it before. After a moment of silence, he then said, "The chances of him _not_ being in Cairo are slim. But he doesn't seem like the type to just run and hide somewhere else just to fuck with us. He wants us dead. As much as he wants it done by his men, I know he wouldn't miss out on a chance to confront us himself."

Della flashed him a smile and rested a gentle hand on his shoulder. "But we're not gonna let him kill us, are we?"

"I can't guarantee we won't come out unscathed, but we _will_ defeat him"

As he finished saying this, he heard what sounded like a propeller overhead. Looking up, he noticed a helicopter slowly descending before them. Everyone's hair and the sand all around them whipped about by the wind it created. "Look alive, everyone," called out Joseph. "They're here! Give them some room, they're looking for a place to land!"

As they moved out of the way, Joutarou asked his grandfather, "This is the Speedwagon Foundation, right? Same guys your old friend founded who're guarding and nursing Mom back in Japan? Don't tell me we're gonna be travelling by helicopter with them."

"No. Technically speaking, we could catch a ride, but none of the pilots are Stand users. I don't want them getting involved in any attacks because of us."

" _So why did they come in a helicopter if we're not riding it_ ," asked Noriaki.

"Because they're bringing backup."

Everyone looked at him in surprise. "Backup," they repeated.. Looking at the descending helicopter, Joaquín had to wonder just who they could possibly bring as backup.

"Mr. Joestar, you called for backup," asked Della curiously. "A Stand user, right? But didn't you say you only have _one_ in reserve?"

"That's correct, Della," pointed out Joseph. " You'll also remember it's the same one with the personality problems. That's part of the reason we had to wait a while, not just for my new hand."

Mohamed, perking up at the mention of the reserve, approached his friend worriedly and said, "Mr. Joestar, it would be impossible for him to accompany us on this trip! There is no way he would help us!"

"Wait, you know this guy," asked Joaquín, his curiosity growing.

"Yes, very well."

"You mean you fought him?"

"I have. I was the only one capable of placating him. He put up a fierce fight, one which I nearly lost."

"Whoa…" _Personality issues and a Stand that could give Mohamed a run for his money… Just who is this guy..?_

"His Stand is named 'The Fool'," started Joseph. "After the tarot card of the same name. But by no means should you underestimate him because of this."

The only one who seemed to think it was a joke was Jean Pierre, who chuckled at the name. "The Fool, huh," he spoke through his amusement. "Sounds like a pretty dopey card to be named after."

Mohamed looked back at him and simply said, "Be grateful he is not our enemy. You cannot win against him."

"What was that," he barked, taking a hold of Mohamed's robes. "You better watch your mouth, you bastard! You trying to act all high and mighty again?"

"I speak only the truth. Now why are you holding me like that? You are not trying to hurt me, are you?"

"Guys, cut it out," barked Della. "It's landing now!"

The helicopter's blades slowed down as it had set foot on the ground. The pilot's door opened, and two men in light blue uniforms stepped off. The first was a light-skinned Spanish man with hard eyes, the second a paler man with a long jaw and a wide smirk. They both wore black caps with a golden wagon wheel on it, above which read "SPEEDWAGON".

 _For guys who aren't Stand users, they sure look pretty tough_ , thought Joaquín as they greeted his grandfather politely.

"Mr. Joestar," said the Spanish man, shaking his only hand. "A pleasure to see you're all safe."

"I appreciate you both coming out here, Arturo, Paulie," Joseph said gratefully. "I take it there were no complications along the way?"

Paulie, the long-jawed man, shook his head as he opened the back door. "None. Although we had some minor turbulence along the way. So your helper might be a little, er… feisty. Just be very careful."

As they spoke, Joaquín looked over their shoulders into the helicopter's back seat. All he could see was a bunched up blanket near the window and nothing else. The back compartment looked to contain their suitcases and bags, showing no room for a Stand user to fit in there. Where was he?

"Hey, guys," he asked the two men, who turned their attention to their charge's grandson. "Are you sure neither of you are Stand users? Cause I don't see anyone sitting in the back."

"Oh, he's there all right," said Arturo, pointing to the back seat. But try as he might, Joaquín saw nobody there.

"Where? What're you talking about?"

"He's right there in the seat."

"So then where is he," asked an amused Jean Pierre, as he approached the helicopter. "Is the bastard a midget or something? Hey, come on out here!" He then started to pat the seat inside, which immediately made Arturo panic.

"H- Hey, watch it!"

The Frenchman made a disgusted grunt and pulled hand off, showing that he had put it in something clear and sticky. From where Joaquín stood, it looked like drool.

"Be careful, please! The ride here was turbulent, he's in a bad mood!"

"Don't get too close, Polnareff," warned Joseph, just as worried as the pilot. "I told you, he has personality issues!"

"I told you, you will not win," calmly added Mohamed.

And their worry was justified when the blanket rustled and came rushing at Jean Pierre. Something black and white slipped out from underneath and immediately jumped onto him, barking furiously.

It was a dog. Specifically, a slobbering, hair-biting, and _very_ unruly Boston terrier.

 _No way..!_ _There's only one dog who acts like this_ _..!_

"A dog," asked Joutarou incredulously as Jean Pierre flailed with a face-full of dog. "Don't tell me, it's this dog?"

Della squealed excitedly and bounced on the balls of her feet. "Oh my god, he's so adorable!"

Joseph shook his head and harrumphed. "You say that now, but you'll be singing a different tune if he gets a hold of that bush of yours. And yes, this dog is the Stand user of The Fool. That little bastard loves to pull on hair when he can reach it. We don't know where he came from, but we found him in New York. Since no dog catcher there could capture him, I sent Avdol to find and finally capture him. And his name is-"

"IGGY?!"

The dog stopped biting and turned around to look at Joaquín. For a brief moment, their bright, fierce blue eyes locked upon one another. The dog named Iggy's stub for a tail wagged hard as he jumped off the disgusted Frenchman and ran straight at his former friend.

"IGGY," Joaquín happily exclaimed again, kneeling for the oncoming dog. He was then tackled with such force that he was knocked backwards, his hair now caught in Iggy's gnashing teeth. He didn't mind this one bit, simply hugging him and laughing joyously. He missed his friend, who had gone missing for quite some time, and here they were reunited in the middle of an Egyptian desert. "Oh god, I missed you so much, boy! Where have you been all this time?"

"You know this dog," asked Joseph incredulously

"Of course I do!" He sat up and rested Iggy on his lap, who tried to reach up and reclaim some hair to chew on. "I took a trip to Brooklyn one day and met him in an alley. He's got this really powerful Stand, and we fought and I lost… I'd always come visit and feed him. He's got this weird craving for anything coffee flavored. Especially gum. He might be a pain in the ass, but Iggy and I became really fast friends."

His grandfather let out a bemused chuckle, going up to him and patting his grandson's head. "You look like a little kid getting a puppy for Christmas," he stated. "I can't believe you actually know him."

"Yep. I can't believe Iggy's joining-" He stopped when he realized something Joseph just brought up. "Wait a minute… _Abuelito_ , you said Mohamed caught him?"

"I did, and it wasn't-"

"You sons of bitches!" Joaquín set Iggy down, his joy replaced with annoyance. "So _you're_ the reason he went missing! He's been gone for almost half a year, I nearly got arrested for interrogating the pound! Damn you, _Abuelito_! But…" He turned to Mohamed. "How did you catch him? His Stand's almost indestructible."

"Luck, I suppose," he said with a shrug. "Or perhaps the lack of sand. However, here in Egypt, where the sand is far more abundant, The Fool is a force to be reckoned with."

"Then let's put that to the test," growled Jean Pierre, trying to fix his mangled hair. "You stupid son of a bitch! It's time someone taught you a lesson! Come on! Chariot!" Silver Chariot flourished himself and his blade into existence. And while Iggy did not bat an eye or raise the hackles on his back, he clearly felt threatened. The sand around him started to swirl. Everyone but the Frenchman backed away, including the pilots.

The sand gathered and formed something rather large, growling, and mechanical. It looked like some bizarre toy of sorts. The golden, dog-like front legs were wrapped in wires. It had crimson wheels for hinds. And mounted on its dark blue body was a golden, tribal, beast-like head with red-tipped white feathers framing it.

" _So_ this _is The Fool_ ," muttered Joutarou to Noriaki.

" _I know we met that orangutan on our way to Singapore_ ," said his friend, " _but this dog…_ "

"He's not gonna stand a chance," announced Joaquín, who had tangled with Iggy enough to know how this encounter would end. Silver Chariot's blade swiped against The Fool, only for the beast to split apart into the sand that formed its mechanical body. Before Jean Pierre could pull away, his Stand's rapier was caught in the reforming body of his opponent. There was no escape for him. With his prey caught, Iggy immediately tackled the Frenchman and resumed his hair munching.

"Told you guys. His Stand's made completely out of sand."

Despite his usual stoic wall, Joutarou looked somewhat impressed. " _It's strong, yet it looks so simple. I doubt even I could hit it._ "

" _You're not gonna get a chance. Trust me, I tried punching it with Preciosa and the same thing happened to me. I even used my_ hamon _. You can't exactly channel it into sand._ Through _sand, maybe. But I still lost. Over and over._ _I guess that's part of how he came to respect me._ "

Jean Pierre continued to flail and cry out for help amidst the biting and farting, another of the dog's bad habits. Feeling he had enough, Mohamed asked Arturo for Iggy's favorite treat. He was handed a pack of coffee-flavored gum, from which he pulled out a single strip. Iggy stopped his assault again, nose snuffling as he could smell the gum from afar. His nose was stronger than any other dog Joaquín met. He watched as he excitedly gamboled over to the fortuneteller.

"M-Mr. Avdol, hide that box before he sees it," hurriedly warned Arturo.

It was too late. Iggy was cunning as he was rambunctious. With one, swift leap, he swiped the entire pack out of Mohamed's hand and began to tear into his bittersweet treat.

"That rascal may love the flavor of coffee chewing gum," said Joseph, "but he'll never let his guard down to anyone."

"At least take the wrapper off first," muttered Mohamed, annoyed by Iggy's trickery and lack of manners.

" _There's no way this dog will help us_ ," pointed out Noriaki.

"Don't worry, he'll be fine," Joaquín reassured as he knelt down to pet the dog. He paid the human no mind as he chewed messily. "I'll take care of him. As long as I'm around, he's not gonna bite anyone elses' hair but mine."

While the dog was distracted, the pilot took a quick moment to help mount a new artificial hand on Joseph. Once he made sure it was functioning properly, they unpacked the helicopter. Everyone was reunited with all of their original belongings they had left behind since their adventure in Benares. All of their clothes had been cleaned up as a bonus. They also received food, water, and medical supplies that would last them through their trip.

They had also bought a new Polaroid camera for Joseph to use with his Stand. _Should_ _be easier this time than using a TV_ , Joaquín hoped, recalling that tense moment. He was soon ripped out of his thoughts when his grandfather announced they were going to take a photograph to commemorate their adventure. Joaquín joined the others and smiled as one of the pilots shot the photo. A moment after it was taken, they were given the developed picture.

There he was, standing with his arm around Della. Beside her were Noriaki and Joutarou (stoic as always), and next to Joaquín stood Mohamed. Kneeling in front of them were Joseph and Jean Pierre, the latter playfully holding the former's chin up. In the elder's arms was Iggy, placated by the gum he was chewing. In that captured moment, they did not look like adventurers, but one mixed, happy family.

 _This picture's definitely something I'll never forget_ , he thought happily as he tucked it away.

After taking the picture, the Speedwagon employees bid them all farewell and a safe journey. But as their helicopter's blades started, Joseph stopped them from leaving. "There's something I must ask you before you go," he said, his voice a mix of worry and somberness. "It's about my daughter…"

Everyone turned to Arturo, who looked at them all with a worried, furrowed look. It was clear that whatever news he had was not good at all.

"What's Holly's condition? Just give it to me straight."

After a moment of hesitation, Arturo bowed his head and said, "Of course… It pains me to say that… her condition isn't good at all. Her vitality is severely exhausting, and her life is still in danger… According to the on-site doctors' diagnosis… she only has two more weeks…"

The shock was felt through all of them. _Only two weeks. Damnit, there's barely any time left… We have to hurry, now more than ever…_

"We also have some more information, sir," he continued. "We've sent some of our men to scout Dio's whereabouts in the city of Cairo. According to their reports, about two days ago, nine mysterious men and women gathered at a building suspected to be Dio's hideout and then departed."

"Dio and nine others," Joseph asked in shock.

"It's not surprising, _Abuelito_ ," said Joaquín, looking seriously between him and the pilots. "We knew he was gonna have more assassins with him. But the number is a bit concerning, though. So I take it you guys haven't gotten a good look at them?"

"Unfortunately no," admitted Arturo. "That was all the information we could gather. Because none of the foundation's employees are Stand users, any further tracking would be impossible. Even taking photos from afar would prove risky.

"So we definitely have more Stand users," exclaimed Jean Pierre.

"And Dio is still in Cairo," Della pointed out. "So he really hasn't left at all." She then turned to Joaquín and asked, "Jojo, what do you think?"

He stood silent for a moment before speaking. "Well, him still staying there all this time is pretty suspicious. What the hell is so special about that place that he hasn't changed his venue? But that's not important. What is, however, is that we're all on the right path. As for the Stand users, well… still not a surprise. But out of the tarot card users we fought, including Death 13," Noriaki, who had relayed the story, smiled, "the only other ones left are Hol Horse's Emperor and 'The World'."

" _That makes me wonder_ ," mused Noriaki. " _What if 'The World' is Dio's Stand? Avdol-san, do you know?_ "

Mohamed, who was still trying to wrap his head around this news, simply said, "I… I do not know… I just do not know… Nine people..?"

"From what it sounds like," started Joseph, "Dio has yet to be fully adjusted to his body. But because he has such strangely great pride, he'll never flee from Cairo. Anyway, it's as Joaquín said: we head straight there."

Joseph bid the pilots farewell, who ascended back into the air and flew off. A feeling of dread washed over them as they packed their car and drove off. Two weeks remained, and now it had been established that nine more Stand users were waiting to ambush them. The stakes were higher than they had been before. But it was by no means discouraging to them. If they could take on at least nineteen, another nine didn't seem too difficult.

"Hey, _Monsieur_ Joestar," whined Jean Pierre beside him. "Why can't you do anything about this?" He pointed accusingly at Iggy, who was sitting in the backseat slobbering contentedly on his gum. "How come this fucking mutt gets to sit up here while we're all cramped up in the trunk?!" Indeed, for everyone except Joutarou were packed there like sardines with their suitcases.

"Just wait until the flavor of his gum runs out," answered Joaquín before Joseph could. "Then we can tempt him with some more back here. Trust me, I know Iggy as well as _Abuelito_ does. It'll work."

"You really do like him, don't you Jojo," asked Della, who sat as comfortably as she could on his lap.

"Of course I do." He watched as Jean Pierre tried to reach over into the back seat, only for Iggy to growl and make him withdraw. "I've always liked dogs. Especially little ones. I would have taken Iggy in, but he's more of a loner. He seems to prefer the streets more than a home." He gave Mohamed a mock scathing look, who responded with an amused smile. "You hear that? When this is over, you guys put him back in New York, not wherever you had- WHOA!"

His sentence was cut of by the sharp squeal of tires and everyone jerking forward. Joaquín held onto his girlfriend before she could end up flying. Iggy, however, was bounced against the back of the driver's seat, but he was too preoccupied with his gum to be bothered by it. "Mr. Joestar, what's going on," said Della worriedly. "Why'd you hit the brakes so hard?"

"L-Look what's up ahead," he shouted as he and Joutarou hurriedly exited the car. The others followed out, and what they beheld was truly awful. It was the Speedwagon helicopter, smoking and resting on its side with its tail and propeller busted and its window smashed. The pilots had been thrown out, one of them lying prone a few feet away, the other pinned beneath the helicopter.

"What the hell happened," muttered Joaquín as they slowly approached. "It just took off almost two hours ago… So why..?

"It does not look as if it were attacked by any type of weaponry," pointed out Mohamed.

"You're right," agreed Della. "It's like it just fell out of the sky… And it looks recent, too… You guys don't think…"

"Everybody be careful," barked Joseph. "There's a great possibility that this is a Stand user's attack!" While everyone tried keeping their distance, Joaquín carefully approached the pinned pilot. "You boys be careful too. Whatever did this might be lurking nearby." Upon closer inspection, they saw that it was Arturo, his face locked in a terrified scream. His hands held onto the side of the helicopter, blood-stained scratches dragging along its side. His nails were also bloody as well.

Joutarou knelt beside the man as Joaquín inspected the scratches. " _It looks like he was trying to escape whatever attacked them_ ," he pointed out, noticing just how desperate the marks look. " _But it's too late for him._ "

" _Water_ ," muttered Joutarou all of a sudden.

" _What's that?_ "

" _There's water pooling in his mouth._ " He turned down to the pilot and noticed that Joutarou was right. When he tilted his head, the water spilled out. But it was more than a simple mouthful. It looked like an entire gallon. And what looked like a dead fish floated out as well. " _No… it doesn't look like it was just in his mouth… There's too much of it…_ _It_ _looks as if it's coming from his lungs… there was even a fish in there…_

" _He… He died from drowning!_ " Joutarou stood back up, a hand nearly covering up his shocked face. He looked utterly shaken. " _In the middle of the desert!_ " Joaquín never liked seeing his brother like this, because he knew it meant that they were dealing with something _very_ dangerous.

" _This is really bad_ ," Joaquín said gravelly as he stood up as well. " _We gotta get the others and-_ "

"Hey, he's still alive!"

He was interrupted by Jean Pierre, who had gathered with the others around Paulie. As he held him up, Joaquín could see how parched and scratched up he was. They joined them immediately, Joseph worriedly asking him, "Paulie, are you okay?! Pull yourself together, man! What the hell happened here?!"

The pilot's body trembled as he reached out to him. All that came out of his mouth was a weak, dry, "Wa… Wa… ter…"

"The man needs water. Someone get him a canteen!" Della handed over a nearby canteen to him, which he took as he raised Paulie's head. "Here. Easy now… Just drink slowly, okay?"

But the minute he realized the canteen was approaching his chapped lips, he began to scream and panic. "GET IT AWAY," he shrieked hysterically. "THE WATER ATTACKED US!" And before anyone could react, the water within the canteen shot out and grabbed Paulie's face. It then pulled it completely off his shoulders and crammed it into the canteen, flying out of Joseph's grip.

"It's an enemy Stand," shouted Joutarou, and everyone jumped away from both the water and the headless corpse. They all hit the deck, making sure that the blood-oozing canteen never left their sights.

"Damnit," lamented Joseph. "Those employees were innocent men! They shouldn't have been attacked!"

"Whoever's targeting us doesn't care about innocents," said Joaquín bluntly. "Did anyone see it?"

"All I saw was its hand," Mohamed answered. "But it is still inside the canteen. I did not see the rest of it come out. Just whose Stand is it..? Is it one of the nine people Dio gathered attacking us..? It has to be… The only Stand left to represent the Major Arcana would be 'The World'…"

"It can't be that."

"What makes you say that, Jojo," asked Della.

"Because Dio strikes me as the type of man who wants to be on top of the world." Preciosa came out and started scanning their surroundings. "It'd only seem right that he'd name his after that card… Shit… Nothing." He turned to his brother, who was doing the same thing through Star Platinum. " _Nothing on your end?_ "

He shook his head. " _I can't see anything around us. I was looking out for anything mirrored in our surroundings, like what we faced with the Sun. The user must be operating from farther away. Kind of explains why the Stand's so small._ "

" _Good thinking. But I don't think any of Dio's men would repeat the same mistakes as whoever made them. Besides, we got the Stand right in front of us. We can just strike it while it's hiding._ Della?" His girlfriend turned her attention to him. "You think one of your bubbles can hit it from here?"

"Of course," she said with confidence. "Plus, they're pretty silent. That Stand won't know that hit it." The fairy-like All My Love manifested behind her and aimed one of her fists directly at the canteen. A large bubble was slowly blowing at the end of it. But before she could fire it, she stopped. Her user's voice was now anxious and nervous as she said, "J-Jojo..! The Stand..! Look!"

She had pointed over to the canteen, where Noriaki and Jean Pierre were crouching away from. A small puddle had appeared before them, who didn't realize it was there as they were bickering. But they soon did when a watery hand emerged from within, opening up to reveal its sharp nails. They were frozen in place. Everyone was.

And nobody could stop it from swiping right across Noriaki's face.

The youth's name was cried out by all as he collapsed onto the sand and bled. Jean Pierre tried to get him away from where they were, panicking as he did. It became quite clear that the Stand wasn't just hiding among the water in the canteen, but _was_ the water. They were in deep trouble, and they needed a plan.

"Polnareff," shouted Joseph, "stop panicking! Call out your Chariot and protect yourself!"

Before he could, his hand landed on the Stand's puddle. Its watery hand rose up again and prepared to swipe at its next victim. But a beeping noise made it turn its attention away from its target. It was the watch of the headless Paulie, signaling the next hour. Without any warning, it slithered up to the corpse and sliced his hand off. Its sudden change in attacked confused everyone. "What the hell is it doing," muttered Joseph. "It just attacked the pilot… But he's already dead!"

"It's not that," said Joaquín, having taken note of what the Stand aimed for. "It was the watch. As soon as the alarm went off, he went straight for it… Jean Pierre didn't make a sound before it was gonna strike… The only reason it knew he was there was cause he touched it puddle."

"So it is sound," exclaimed Mohamed. "It detects sound and attacks!"

The Frenchman had picked up his friend and was about to slowly get away from the distracted Stand. But the blood from Noriaki's wounds dripped down his face onto the sand. Just the faintest sound of it made the hand turn back around to his former target, poised to swipe again.

"JEAN PIERRE, RUN FOR IT," screamed Della, as everyone else started scrabbling onto the car. Jean Pierre ran with his friend being carried, the puddle moving in hot pursuit. It moved far too fast for him to escape, for it managed to catch up and slash the back of his leg to trip him up. Joseph was not going to let him get attacked again. His Hermit Purple shot out before the two feel and caught them, bringing back to their car. The Stand, meanwhile, had dissolved into the sand.

"Looks like we know how this fucker works," said Joaquín as he looked over the side of the car. There was no sign of the Stand. "It can move under the sand and attack whatever makes a noise. From behind or under our feet, we'll be hit before we even notice it… It can trick us and attack whatever noise it picks up... On top of all that, the user's farther than we can see… _Puñeta…_ "

"How is Noriaki," asked Della, who was given the youth by Jean Pierre. Joutarou, as well as Joaquín, looked over her shoulder to their injured friend. Two freshly bleeding lines ran straight down his eyes. "Will he be okay?"

" _This is bad_ ," muttered Joutarou, his anger at the situation mixed with worry. " _Kakyouin's in danger of going blind. We have to get him to a hospital soon._ "

"Then we gotta get rid of this- Huh?"

Her eyes were drawn to the side of the car. Sticking his head out of the window was Iggy, who was scrabbling for a moment before jumping out. Before anyone could ask what he was doing, they felt the front of the car starting to sink. The watery Stand had appeared again, trying to swallow them into the sand. The group tried holding onto the car, moving up so that, by some miracle, it would tilt back and free them. Iggy, meanwhile, started to curiously sniff the air.

Joaquín, who noticed this, shouted, "Hey, Iggy! Call out The Fool! Help us out!"

But the dog simply yawned and lied down to sleep.

 _That damn dog_ , he cursed in his head. _I forgot how stubborn he could get. He wouldn't be doing this if I threw some gum at him…_

Suddenly, the front tires were broken off, one of them being slashed up by the water. Without the weight of the tires, they were going to fall back. And hard. Joseph barked for everyone to "Brace yourselves!" as they sudden force of the fall threw everyone off the car and back onto the sand. They all watched as their ruined ride slammed back into place and the Stand slip back underground. They were sitting ducks now that the Stand had more than likely picked up where they landed.

"Nobody move," whispered Mohamed, loud enough for the others to hear. "And nobody make a sound."

Joaquín silently watched as the fortuneteller began to twist off one the golden bangles on his arms. One it was off, he tossed it about a foot or two in front of him. He repeated this a few more times, each one farther, than before but close to the last one thrown. It was with the third toss that he realized what he had planned. _Mohamed's trying to trick the Stand into thinking he moved! It can feel whatever's moving on the sand! Damn, that's genius! This'll definitely work!_

Once the fifth had landed, they waited with bated breath for the Stand to take the bait. Sure enough, a small puddle was bubbling up beside the last bangle. Magician's Red blazed to life behind his master, who commanded him to drive a fiery fist into the enemy Stand. But the water seemed to know it was being targeted, for it swiftly shot itself away and aimed at Mohamed. Both Stands attacked, a swipe of fire and water clashing before they both disappeared. A moment passed in silence, then…

"Who.. is he…," muttered Mohamed shakily, "it is… so strong…" And the results of the clash appeared in a spurt of blood on his neck. His neck had been slashed, making him fall back in shock. As everyone cried out in horror, the Stand reemerged with its claws ready for the kill. Joaquín could feel his anger slowly starting to bubble up inside him.

 _There's no way he's going to die… Not for real… We just got him back, and now some bastard's gonna have the gall to actually kill him?! No! I'm not gonna stand for it! I'm gonna fucking_ _kick your ass_ _for even thinking you c_ _ould!_

Without hesitation, Joaquín scrambled to his feet and ran away from the others. He could sense the hand swiveling around and begin to chase him now. Della cried out, "Jojo, what the hell are you doing?!"

"Don't worry," he shouted back. "Just help him out!" He wasn't simply running from them just to draw the Stand's attention to him. He was running so he could take Iggy with him. While they were attacked on the car, he noticed something that made him think. The dog had escaped before they were attacked, even sniffing the air afterwards. There was a reason why he did this, and it was clearly obvious.

 _Iggy has a strong no_ _se._ _He_ _knows that someone's trying to fuck with us._

Just as he approached, he could see the Boston terrier tilt his head, then rise to his feet as if to run. But Joaquín had caught up and summoned Preciosa to lift him up and transfer him into his user's hands. "Okay, Iggy," he spoke as he ran, looking down at the confused dog. "I know you know where he is. You wouldn't have escaped if you didn't know. But listen, I need you to sniff him out! We gotta stop whoever's attacking us before we all end up dead!"

He stopped in his tracks and held Iggy on the ground, the dog trying to squirm free. "We don't have time for this! The Stand's gonna catch up to us! Find out where he is, quick! If you do, I'll give you a whole pack of gum!" At the mention of gum, Iggy stopped and started sniffing the air. He looked in one direction and held his nose there. "Is he there? Is the user there, Iggy?"

In response, The Fool swirled to life behind him. But rather than have its normal hind wheels, it instead had gigantic, beastly wings attached to several rods beneath. It looked like some twisted hand glider. The Stand picked up Iggy and began to fly away. _This is new._ He shouted " Wait for me!" and leaped high enough for him and Preciosa to take hold of the gliding Stand's arm. Just as he did this, their enemy has shot up and nearly took Joaquín's leg.

" _Ay, Jesús_ , that was close… Come on, Iggy! We've got a Stand user to find! Just keep sniffing!"

But it was not an easy task. Iggy couldn't control the direction of his Stand that well, so they were going in one direction. On top of that, Joaquín's weight was dragging them down more than it ought to. Several miles into their flight, he had to tuck his legs as the ground grew closer. At some point, he would have to use Preciosa to get them higher, but doing so would only give them away.

 _We don't have a choice. We've gotta risk it._

Iggy must have sensed the danger of what they had to do, for he started to nervously fart. "G-Geez, Iggy! Save the tooting for when you bite Jean Pierre's hair again! Just hold on!" Both he and Preciosa took one, brief step onto the sand and kicked off, soaring higher and farther away than they already were. The exhilaration of soaring so high made him want to shout with excitement, but he didn't want his voice to carry.

As if that mattered now. Looking behind him, he saw a cloud of sand barreling towards them. The Stand was giving chase. It wasn't too much to worry about. While it had been able to take down a helicopter, Joaquín knew that it was only because that aircraft made noise. Apart from Iggy's gas, they were gliding silently through the air. There was no way their enemy would be able to properly pinpoint their location.

A good distance later, Preciosa had noticed something with his telescopic eyes. About a quarter mile away, he made out a lone figure sitting in the sand. It was a tan man with dark hair sticking out in all directions, sitting cross-legged and covered in a green shroud. He held a silver cane up to his hoop-pierced ear, his expression one of a man trying to hear the faintest of noises. His eyes, Joaquín noticed, lacked color to them. That was when everything the Stand had done made sense.

 _He can't see_ , he realized. _This Stand user's blind!_

Upon his discovery, Joaquín noticed that there was an odd clacking noise in the air, the sound of grains hitting one another. He also noticed that sand was beginning to fill the air. It didn't come from Iggy, but rather their enemy in hot pursuit. It was deliberately kicking up sand as it chased them, using the noise as a type of sonar. _Damnit! He's trying to detect where we are!_

A blade of water emerged and shot out in front of him. As he tried moving out of the way, Preciosa threw a punch with his free hand. But it was too late. The Stand flew underneath the fist and sliced Joaquín's shoulder. It even went through one of The Fool's wings, throwing them off balance.

"S-Shit," he growled as they were slowly starting to lose altitude. "Iggy, k-keep us flying! Don't call your Stand back just yet!" They were not getting close enough. The enemy was still too far for them to attack just yet, and if they landed now, they would be sitting ducks for his Stand. If only he had a long-range attack like the Emerald Splash or All My Loves' bubbles, he could strike the blind man easily. But all he had was his oil (which couldn't reach that far) and-

And Iggy.

Everything clicked. He knew what he would have to do. But Iggy won't like it.

"Sorry, Iggy," he apologized as they landed. The watery hand emerged before them and slithered angrily towards them. "I'll give you two once we're done!" Preciosa grabbed the dog, The Fool dissolving above, and wasted no time throwing him as hard as he could. The poor dog spun and howled farther and farther away from him while the hand stopped its impending attack. It then immediately spun around and quickly returned to its master.

 _Of course_ , he thought as he watched the enemy's brow furrow from a distance. _He's gotta call it back to defend himself. I gotta use that one opportunity to move._

He waited patiently, watching the cloud of sand racing faster than the flying Boston terrier. When they were finally close enough, he used the power of Preciosa's legs to propel himself far and fast. He watched from above as a wall of water formed around the enemy, Iggy and The Fool spectacularly colliding with it. The force of the impact, was enough to knock him backwards and drop his cane. It was at that time that Joaquín landed silently behind him.

"W-What kind of person is he," cursed the man "Joaquín just threw the dog! Damnit! I could have killed him with one final blow!" He then gasped, and his Stand pooled around him like a creeping puddle as he scrabbled blindly for his cane. "Shit! Thanks to me having to catch that dog, I can't confirm Joaquín's position! I lost sight of him! W-Where is… Where is he..?" He found it and swiftly brought the handle to his ear, keeping quiet so as to find out where he was.

But Joaquín was nowhere in front of him, nor was he moving. Neither was Iggy, for that matter. No matter how hard he would try, the enemy would have no idea that his target was standing silently behind him. This was the perfect opportunity to attack. Either he or Preciosa could defeat him in one blow from this position. But seeing this man sitting nearly defenseless, he felt that attacking like this would have been dirty. It just didn't feel right.

Iggy whined and ducked with his paws over his head, gazing fearfully at both his friend and the approaching puddle. This seemed to catch the blind man's attention. For a moment, Joaquín swore he could feel the man's eyes widening in realization. His position behind him had been given away just by that gesture of fright. No sudden movements were made, not even as the water slid slowly into the shadow of his leg. No words were spoken in that moment. The two knew what was to come.

"I see," muttered his enemy unironically. "I didn't think you'd be this close… If I hadn't brought back my Stand of water here to guard my surroundings, you would have already struck me from behind…"

"I wouldn't have," admitted Joaquín sincerely. "I don't like cheap shots like this… I'm a fighter… I prefer giving my opponents a chance to fight back.

The man chuckled and slowly held out his cane. "Then I no longer require my cane to detect sound. I'll leave it for now, but when I return, this cane…" He then let it drop. "… will be useful…"

Before it completely hit the sand, Iggy let out a hair-raising yelp. Both Preciosa and the water flew out and struck. A gloved fist slammed into the blind man's chest while the water shot under and merely grazed Joaquín's temple. The blind man was sent skidding across the sand as his cane finally landed. He was left a coughing, shaking heap, his body undoubtedly wracked with pain.

" _TOMA_ ," roared Preciosa victoriously before fading back into his user.

"D-Damn," growled Joaquín, touching his bleeding head. "You actually got me good. Don't worry, though… I held back a bit. That blow wasn't fatal."

It wasn't. But the water shooting straight through its user's head certainly was.

" _¡T-Tonto!_ You just used… why'd you do that to yourself?!"

Even as the blood pooled beneath his head, the man smiled and shakily spoke, "Joaquín… you… were considering getting information about the other eight… from me… Joseph… Joestar's Stand… Hermit… could sense whatever I'm thinking… I can't afford to talk about anything… that would be the slightest inconvenience… to _him_... Heh heh heh…"

There was only one _him_ he could think of. "Dio… But… why do you all swear allegiance to him the way you do? To the point of even dying for him..?"

"Joaquín… I am not afraid to die… not in the slightest… Heh heh… Because of my Stand's abilities… I was never afraid of of it… even as a child… My blindness didn't bother me either… I could win against anyone… Crime and murder… didn't matter to me… I wasn't afraid, not even of the police… That dog of yours… surely he understands this as well…

"But this… is the first time… that I feel from the bottom of my heart… that I do not want to be killed… by that person himself… That man… is too powerful… profound… grand… beautiful… And he… was the first person in this world... who recognized my worth... I have been waiting… for so long… to meet a person like him… I am not afraid to die… however… to be forsaken and killed by him… I couldn't bear the think that…

"Even… the wicked… need a savior of the damned…"

This entire time, Joaquín stood silent, feeling pity for this man. Sure, his heart was as dark as most of Dio's other men, but all he ever wanted in life was recognition. To feel like he was worth something. How many others had felt his pain, only to go to this man and be reassured that their lives had meaning?

"I will… only tell you this… My name is… N'Dour… And my Stand… is based on what may be… the origin of tarot cards… The Divine Geb… The god of the earth… One of the Nine Glorious Gods of Egypt…"

"Nine Glorious Gods of Egypt," he repeated in confusion. "What the hell is that?"

N'Dour cackled, spitting up more blood. His life was waning. "I can only… tell you… my Stand… You beat it… therefore… I impart.. only that… Heh… Joaquín… What kind of face… Yours... is the first… I ever… wanted to see…

"Joaquín… I… pray… for your… luck…"

N'Dour's hand collapsed. He had passed on.

In the wake of this man's death, Joaquín was left with an odd, bitter taste in his mouth. _This man… was proud to be who he was… Even though he was an outcast… If I ever met him before any of this, I might have become friends with him. But it's too late for that… Dio… he manipulated him, and turned him into a fanatic like the rest of his men… He's a terrible man… On top of that, there's these Nine Gods we have to worry about, too… Just who are they…?_

 _Man… we've got a long road ahead of us… and little time… For now… I guess I can give N'Dour a burial here… It's the least he deserves…_

He spent the next few minutes using Preciosa to dig up a hole to bury the man. As he did this, he could feel Iggy's eyes on him, staring with trepidation and annoyance. "I'm, er, sorry I had to throw you, buddy," he apologized, turning to the dog and giving him a nervous smile. "You got every right to be pissed at me. But it was either us or him… Anyway… Thanks, buddy. You're a good boy."

The praise made him huff, but his little tail wagged appreciatively.

"Hey, you wanna help me dig? There's still those two packs I owe you."

And with that, the two dug up the makeshift grave for N'Dour. Once they had finished burying him, Joaquín stuck the silver cane upon the mound. Only those who knew the man would realize this was where he lied. Joaquín gave a silent prayer and walked off with his dog, hoping from the bottom of his heart that this man would be forgiven in the next life.

~N'DOUR (1963-1989): RIP~


	28. Just Another Day

My updates are coming like one month at a time now. And it's kinda bugging me. Is this what Araki feels while doing Jojolion? Idk. Anyway, this chapter took long due to trying to figure out how to write it. Overall, I'm happy with how it all turned out. And I hope you guys will be too. Enjoy!

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Ch. 28  
Just Another Day

JANUARY 4TH, 1989  
10:12  
CAIRO, EGYPT

"This is an unexpected surprise… You are here earlier than we have planned."

"Yes. I hope this isn't a problem, Dio.

"None at all… But, that does make me curious as to why you would do so…"

"I sensed something was off in our last conversation. There was a certain edge to your voice, as if something did not go as you had intended. I was concerned… I just had to fly here earlier."

"You… were concerned…

"...

"... Then… I shall trust you from the bottom of my heart…"

"..? I… don't follow, Dio…"

"My… friend… within my manor, I have hidden a notebook. A diary of sorts… I have written in it for the sake of achieving heaven… It is incomplete. And until today, none know of its existence... One day, I wish for you to read it. Under which circumstances, I may not know. But if fate is truly something that isn't exaggerated, then there is a force of gravity that acts between people…

"If something exist between us, no matter what form it takes, you must read it…"

~+JO*JO+~

The place where the Tropic of Cancer (northern latitude 23°, 27 minutes) passes through… This region of the Nile River basin is known as "Nubia". In the past, the ancient Egyptians used the granite stones of this land to create many temples, statues, and monuments. And in the present, the modern Egyptians completed the world's second largest reservoir, the Aswan High Dam, in 1971. Even in this modern age, this land continued to produce such fascinating structures.

One of these Joaquín admired along their drive through this area was the Great Temple of Ramesses II. Similar to the lesser one nearby, this temple was carved right against a small mountain, four gigantic men seated around its entrance. All of them, including the second, nearly torso-less statue, depicted the namesake pharaoh. If ever he came back here, this would be one of the first places he'd visit. And he'd be sure to bring Della there as well.

"I never want to come back here," grumbled Jean Pierre as he drove them along a paved road. It had been a day after their battle with N'Dour. Joseph had managed to fix their car, as well as fit a new tire on. Both Mohamed and Noriaki were patched up as best as they could, but they both needed medical attention. The town they had stopped in that night held no hospital, but Aswan certainly did. And that was where they were headed this morning.

"You sure," asked Della. "It looks like a wonderful place."

" _Oui_. Fancy hotels or not, there's just way too much sand here." Plus it's so hot! Even here in winter!"

"Oh, it's not _that_ hot. It could be worse."

"It is, we're in Egypt… Oh, _merde_ , look!" Everyone beheld what looked like a pretty horrible accident. A delivery truck has smashed straight into a bus, tipping it over onto its side and wrecking the front. Some of the windows were broken, its passengers all strewn about on the road and the surrounding rocky terrain. One of these victims was lifelessly hanging against a telephone pole, his neck impaled by a steel rod. "My god, don't tell me this was another Stand attack..!"

Joaquín looked carefully at the scene and shook his head. "No," he said calmly. "This looks completely coincidental. If a Stand user was around, they'd make this look more deliberate. Someone was clearly not paying attention here."

"Thank goodness" grunted Joseph appreciative, though his tone was still mournful for those killed. "We've got bigger things to worry about than any enemies. We have to get the others to a doctor. Aswan's at least twenty to thirty kilometers away… We _have_ to hurry…"

They all arrived in the city of Aswan about an hour later, where they first stopped at the ophthalmologist for Noriaki's eyes. Mohamed, meanwhile, was taken to a nearby hospital for his neck. Both Jean Pierre and Joaquín were patched up there as well, but they didn't worry too much. Their injuries were smaller and would heal much faster. It was a nice benefit from being a Stand user, but Joaquín knew it would have its limits. The larger injuries were proof of this.

"Worry not, Joaquín," Mohamed gently reassured when they all ate some lunch they bought at the hospital. "These injuries are not fatal at all. We shall be with you all soon."

Everyone spent the afternoon with the two injured, making sure their friends were comfortable while they rested. Around a quarter 'till 4, the group had bid their farewell, promising to return after dinner. They had yet to check out the town they were in, but they had no doubt they'd come upon somewhere nice to eat or drink. While they walked, they discussed the situation regarding their injured friends.

"Fortunately, nothing vital was wounded on Avdol's neck," said Joseph thankfully. "It looks like he might be discharged from the hospital tomorrow."

"But Noriaki's are pretty severe," said a fretful Della. "He was slashed straight along his eyeballs. He might lose his sight…"

"I'm worried about him," said Jean Pierre through his cigarette. The others shared the same sentiments, none more than Joutarou. If Joaquín didn't know any better, he would have thought that his brother had a crush on his friend. Regardless, it was sweet to see him care for someone, even if he wasn't facially expressive about it.

"Pains me to say this," and it sounded as if it did, "but… we might have to retire Kakyouin from this trip."

Joaquín sighed in disappointment. _Gained one member back and lose another. God, this sucks. But he's alive, at least. That's the best we could ask for._ "We won't have a choice," he said plainly. "But hopefully he'll be with us in the end… Jean Pierre, will you put that out? You trying to look cool or something, cause you're not."

He ignored his admonishment and said, "Hey, there' lots of cafes here. Let's just relax and get something in our stomachs."

"Fine. Choose, then."

The Frenchman took his cigarette and flicked it, letting it bounce on the street until it pointed to one of the many cafes that surrounded them. Once it stopped, they headed straight for the shop chosen for them to relax at. The worker there greeted them politely as they took their seats and approached. He was as tall as the Joestar brothers, tan with fat lips, long curls, and baggy eyes. His outfit was bizarre for a cafe worker, a vest over a regular shirt and jeans beneath his apron.

"Can I… take your order," he said carefully. Joaquín noticed how seedy his eyes were, which sent a shiver down his spine.

"I'd like some black tea, please," asked Jean Pierre. Everyone but Joseph made the same order.

"Yes… tea… five orders of tea…"

"No," interrupted Joseph. "We can't be ordering any tea or coffee."

"What's wrong, _Monsieur_ Joestar," asked Jean Pierre in confusion.

"Listen. We're in Egypt, in enemy territory. Now more than ever, we can never know where our enemy is hiding or what they're planning. Like with plane crashes, we should be more cautious of things like poison. From now on, we only drink from anything bottled or canned." He then turned to the server and the nearby fridge and said, "Hey, give us some cola instead. Third, fourth, and fifth from the top second and third from the bottom as well. Just bring it to us without opening them."

"COLA," nearly choked the server.

"Yeah," said Joaquín, eyeing him suspiciously. "Is that a problem?"

He shook his head. "V-Very well… Cola then… five of them." But as he pulled out several Coke bottles from the fridge, one of the customers stood up and complained in Arabic. Nobody understood him, except that he was pointing to his bottle of Coke and was clearly disgusted. The server simply gave him an embarrassed apology before turning to the group and telling them in English, "M-My apologies… The r-refrigerator is broken. None of our sodas are cold."

It was like China all over again, only the soda wasn't purposefully hot. Even in another country, being offered hot cola did not sit well with Joseph. Jean Pierre simply chuckled and swiped another cigarette and reassuringly said, "Come on, _Monsieur_ Joestar, you're acting too nervous. Look, let's say, for example, our server was the enemy, and he wanted to poison us… How would we know we came into this cafe?"

"You got a point there," said Joaquín. "There's a whole bunch of cafes here. The odds of an enemy being in one of them are slim."

Joseph shook his head. "All I'm saying is that it never hurts to be careful."

"So why don't we just change shop then?" He and the others stood up, ready to head to the cafe across the street. Unfortunately, there was a fire burning right in front of it. According to them, someone had dropped their cigarette, which ignited some litter on the street. It didn't take a genius to know whose fault it was.

Sheepishly, Joseph turned to the waiter and said, "Er… You know what, let's have those teas then, waiter."

Everyone sat back down. Within a few minutes, they were served five hot cups of black tea. Nothing looked or smelled suspicious about it them at all. _Maybe Jean Pierre has a point_ , he thought as he looked at the fire. _There are so many cafes. We should probably just relax and not worry about this too much…_

"Man, what kind of idiot would throw their cigarette in the trash," said the Frenchman in an attempt to sweep his blunder under the rug.

"You fucking serious," asked Joaquín incredulously. He then reached into his pocket and swiped away his pack of cigarettes. "I hope that was a joke, otherwise, I'm gonna sic Iggy on you." He went to take a sip. The warm drink was on his lips for a second before-

"Eek! A dog just took my cake!"

Everyone spat their drinks and turned to a tourist couple whose table had been ravaged by dirt and spilled coffee. Iggy had immediately jumped off, his jowls coated in crumbs and icing. They had completely forgotten to keep an eye on him in a public setting like this. He had undoubtedly smelled the coffee and cake before taking the pastry. Plates were tossed, swears were spewed, and everyone's appetite was ruined. All thanks to a rowdy Boston terrier.

" _Ce putain de chien_ ," cursed Jean Pierre as he and everyone else ran after their thieving dog. "Get back here, damn you!"

They did not return to pay for the nearly-untouched tea.

~+JO*JO+~

"Hey... I'm curious to know... Dio... Of all the Stand abilities you have met... which would you say is the weakest..? What kind of person possessed it? It can be anyone you have met, whether it was someone from around the world... or someone whose Stand had newly manifested..."

"... Whoever they may be, based on their personalities, each person is the right person for the right place. A king is suitable as a king... a chef is suitable as a chef... That is what it means for them to live... Just like Stands, there is no concept of strength or weakness."

"That was an awful question... I wish to know on the same level as children when they playfully ask each other, 'Who's stronger? Stallone or van Damme?'"

"... The Stand named Survivor could be considered the 'weakest'. However, it's beyond anyone's control."

"Survivor... What a powerful name..."

~+JO*JO+~

It had been an hour since everyone had recaptured Iggy. By the time they finished, they had worked up their appetite again and stopped at another cafe. Joutarou didn't eat much, stating that he was going on ahead to visit Noriaki on foot. His brother, spurred by Joutarou's concern for his friend, decided that he would go and walk to the hospital as well.

"You guys relax," he told them as he left his share of the bill. "We'll catch up later, okay?"

"Wait, Joaquín," called out his grandfather. "Make sure that car's locked before you go! The keys are under the front seat!"

With a thumbs up, Joaquín made his way over to their car. It was somewhat careless to just leave their care unlocked the way Joseph did, but he knew that nobody would dare try to steal from them. _They'd have to take us on first before they can do that_. And yet, as he approached the car, he saw that he was proven wrong. There was a figure in the car, kneeling in the backseat with the sack of oranges the group had bought earlier. They were being looted.

"HEY," barked Joaquín, the figure inside holding still. "Who the hell's there?! You better let of whatever it is you have in there and step out of the fucking car!"

It did not look like Joutarou in the back. His clothes weren't dark. And yet his facial features were hidden by the sack. He couldn't get a good look at him."I don't know what you're doing, but you better back away and stand up. Otherwise my fist is going straight into your teeth! Come on!"

Whoever was inside slowly backed out and said in a familiar voice, "Oi, oi, _what're you talking about?_ " He rose, and to Joaquín's amazement, it was Joutarou. " _It's me,_ niisan _._ "

" _Joutarou_ ," he asked in confusion. " _What're you doing here? Didn't you say you were walking to the hospital?_ "

" _Hm? The… The hospital? Oh, yeah. I came back cause I forgot something in the car. My wallet. Yeah, I forgot my wallet._ Yare yare daze _._ "

Looking over his brother, he took note of what he was wearing. A tan vest over a periwinkle blue shirt and jeans. Emblazoned on the shirt in pink was the word "OINGO". " _Hey, what happened to your_ gakuran _?_ "

" _My…_ gakuran _?_ " He was sounding uncharacteristically nervous."

" _Yeah. The hell's this fashion sense you got, too?_ " He chuckled and tugged at his vest. " _What's Oingo? Sounds like an elf's name or something._ "

" _Oh, er, my clothes- I mean, my_ gakuran _… It's… at the cleaners! I needed money for the cleaners, that's why I had to come back here._ "

" _I see. So, tell me something, Joutarou…_ " He put a hand on his shoulder and leans in, a knowing smirk on his face and his eyes burning. " _When are you gonna realize that you can't fool Joaquín Trejo with that tacky disguise, you impostor?_ "

The man's smile faded as he switched to English. "How… did you know it was a disguise?"

Joaquín simply chuckled and shook his head. "You just told me." The fake Joutarou blanched and started to back away, only for Preciosa's arm to shoot out and grab his collar. "Actually, everything gave it away. The same clothes as the cafe waiter, the nervous mannerisms, and then there's the simple fact that he had just walked out of the restaurant we were at with his wallet. So yeah. That's how I knew. Now tell me, are you working for Dio?"

"A-And if I am?! M-Me and my brother were paid to hunt you guys and kill you!"

"You're doing a bad job at it… er… what's your name?" The impostor meekly pointed to his shirt. "Oingo. You know, I'm impressed at your impersonation of my brother. I take it that's part of your Stand?"

"Y-Yes," said Oingo, poking at his cheek. "With my stand, the Divine Khnum, I can turn my height, weight, scent, face and voice into whomever I want. I can even change my hair to mimic stuff like hats."

"And it's about as tall as Jean Pierre's hair. You look like a clown. But I'll give you some props for trying." He looked back at the oranges. "I take it you weren't looting… What were you planning? And be honest, or I'll hold my promise of punching your teeth in."

The man gulped and continued speaking in Joutarou's voice. "I… was gonna plant an orange bomb… And it was meant for your brother. It would have hit the others, but mainly him. My brother... predicted it with his Stand… Joutarou is fated to be blown up by the bomb…"

 _A Stand like Yellow Temperance and another that can make predictions… That's a rather interesting combination…_ "I see… Well, if that's the case-

"Hey, Joaquín, Joutarou!"

It was Joseph, accompanied by the others. Oingo looked on in panic. Under any other circumstance, Joaquín would have outed the Stand user, but he held his tongue. If this man was right in that the bomb was meant for his brother, and if he kept his disguise…

 _Oh, this is gonna be fun._

"Hey guys," he said with a wave. "Joutarou got his uniform stained. He said he'll just come with us to the hospital." He turned and smiled at the would-be assassin. He wanted to see how long Oingo can fool the others before he breaks from being so close to the orange bomb he planted. It might have seemed cruel, but it was a fair punishment for someone who had the intent to kill them. And before he could flee or dispute, Joaquín grabbed his collar and dragged him into the car.

As they made their way to the hospital, Joaquín took a hold of one of the oranges, looking closer at it with his Stand. He could barely make out a seam around the top. _So this is the bomb_ , he thought as he saw the disguised Oingo eyeing it with worry. He innocently offered it to him with a smile. " _Come on, Joutarou_ ," he said while hiding his amusement. " _Have an orange. These are fresh off the tree._ "

His eye twitched before he snatched the fruit and tossed it. There was no reason to do so, considering that no matter what happened, he was still going to suffer either way. Perhaps he thought he could retrieve it later and actually use it while their backs were turned. That must have been the case, given how relaxed he looked now. But this wouldn't last.

"Hey, _Monsieur_ Joestar," said Jean Pierre as he looked into the side-view mirror. "It's Iggy! He's running up to the car! And he even has an orange!" Oingo's eyes shot open. "He probably stole it… But maybe he got it for Kakyouin." They turned to the drivers window to see Iggy had leaped onto the car and was scrabbling inside. And in his mouth, much Oingo's horror, was the once-tossed orange bomb.

Naturally, the assassin screamed something that sounded like, " _UHIII!_ "

" _Joutarou, are you okay_ ," asked Della worriedly.

"Yeah, why'd you scream ' _uhi_ ' for," asked Joseph, taking the orange and setting Iggy in the back. "You mean ' _ushi_ '?

Oingo looked confused for a second before hastily saying, " _Y-Y-Yeah,_ ushi _. Cow. Right, uh… right over there, see?_ " He pointed out the window, where a cow and its owner were walking beside the road. Everyone gave one another a confused look before turning to the impostor. Even Joaquín, feigning suspicion if only to make him uncomfortable.

"Joutarou, what's going on," asked Jean Pierre as he took the orange from Joseph. His eyes fixed themselves on Oingo, growing cold and suspicious. I've been noticing that you've been acting strange since your brother bumped into you… It isn't much, but you're not your usual self. Don't tell me… you wouldn't be, by any chance… a faker… are you?"

Throughout their journey, there had been only two people who used disguises against them. And the Frenchman did not exactly appreciate someone taking the form of one of his friends. Knowing him, if Oingo broke his cover, he would end up as another pincushion. And he must have sensed it to, for he regained his composure and held up his act as Joutarou. " _Yare yare,_ " he groaned while adjusting his "hat". " _What a stupid thing to say, Polnareff… Aren't we almost at the hospital?_ "

A moment of cold silence, then…

"Nah, they wouldn't be stupid enough to mimic my brother." Joaquín slapped his back and smiled knowingly at him. "If anyone did, they'd be dead already. Cause that's my brother." And he smiled wider, enjoying the look of fear washed over Oingo. " _Am I right?_ "

" _Y-Yeah… Of course…_ "

With the brief, tense moment passed, he decided he could have a little more fun. "Hey, Jean Pierre, you got a cigarette?"

Della gasped and slapped her boyfriend's arm. "J-Jojo, you can't be serious," she said in a scandalized tone. "You don't smoke at all! Are you really-"

"No, I'm not. But I wanna see if Joutarou could replicate that special trick he showed us yesterday."

"Special… trick," he asked confusedly.

Jean Pierre looked excited as he took out one of his cigarettes. Yeah, you taught it to me, remember?" He lit it up and stuck it in his mouth. Like this! I wanna see you do it!" He opened wide and carefully tilted the still-smoking stick into his mouth and closed it. Soon, the smoke streamed out from his nose as he let out an accomplished chuckle. While Joaquín did not like them smoking, he was nonetheless impressed at this stupid trick.

"Oh, you've gotten better at it, Polnareff," said Joseph proudly.

" _Oh, that trick_ ," said Oingo. " _Y-Yeah, I can do that._ "

" _Of course you can_ ," said Joaquín. " _It's easy. But I wanna see you do it with five like last time._ "

The assassin's face was sweating. " _F-FIVE?!_ "

 _Ha! Let's see if you can do this. Can't back out, otherwise the others just might lay into you. And if you do manage to succeed…_ "

Jean Pierre handed him five cigarettes, which he stuck to his mouth and lit. He looked absolutely ridiculous right now. As did Joutarou, but the silliness was overshadowed by his success. While he was certain the impostor couldn't replicate such a feat, it was going to be funny seeing him burn himself trying. " _Go on_ ," he told them as Oingo. " _Try it. Cause after this, you're done smoking, you hear?_ "

Oingo gave him a look that clearly screamed "SHUT UP!" as he opened his mouth and made his attempt. The burning cigarettes fumbled in his mouth as he tried not to tip them too far and burn himself. He looked rather nervous with everyone watching with bated breath. And then, they all tumbled in before he closed his mouth. No pain, no scream. Only smoke pouring from his nose. Everyone let out an impressed cheer.

 _Wow. That was… actually cool. I didn't think anyone else would be able to do something as crazy as this. I guess anything's possible when they're faced with pain or death. You got my respect for that._

"Here," said Jean Pierre as he pulled out a bottle. "Now this time drink some juice without putting the flames out again!"

His success only lasted for so long before he burned himself trying to drink.

"Oh, shit, he failed," shouted Jean Pierre.

"Joutarou, are you okay," cried out Della.

"OH MY GOD," roared Joseph in shock.

Meanwhile Joaquín was laughing himself silly at Oingo's failure and Iggy slept through the chaos. He felt only a little bad for the impostor, but that certainly didn't stop him from thinking he deserved this little torture. "I'm sorry, but that was just so funny," he said as Oingo spat out and snuffed the cigarettes.

"That was a bit too much," Della admonished. "Jean Pierre, how could you give him that juice! He could have been hurt worse than he already has! And Jojo, why would you even suggest he do something like that when you've been trying all this time to make him quit smoking?"

"Sorry, Della. I couldn't help it. I might hate his habit, but it looked too cool. Maybe we could try next time with something less cancerous."

"If you say so… But… all that aside…" She leaned over to Oingo, who was covering his mouth. "I kinda have to agree with Jean Pierre You _have_ been acting very strange. You're all fidgety and… not as stoic."

Oingo's eyes darted to her, giving her a muffled, "I'm just a little…u-under the weather… I don't feel like I'm in good c-condition right now."

"They didn't give you anything bad in our food, did they?"

"I-I don't know…" He tried to calm himself down, hands now clasped on his lap. It looked as if he was thinking of a way out of this situation. But Oingo wasn't going to escape until Joaquín felt he had had enough. Perhaps one last scare would be enough to make him run for his life and consider never messing with them again.

His train of thought was stopped when Jean Pierre suddenly said, "Hey, Joutarou, the way you're holding your hands…" Now Joaquín was confused. What was he talking about? Looking at the impostor's gloved hands, there was nothing bizarre about the way he had them. But apparently, there was, because the Frenchman grabbed them and loudly said. "You! You hold your hands with you left hand over your right! Huh?!"

The air thickened as Oingo shot Joaquín a perplexed, fearful look. All Joaquín could do was shrug. I have no idea where this is going, he conveyed through that simple action. But it wasn't all too serious, for Jean Pierre let go and laughed mockingly. "The way you hold your hands proves you were a girl in a former life! Ah ha ha ha!" And as quick as the tension came, it soon deescalated into something stupid.

"Jean Pierre, what on earth are you going on about," asked and exasperated Della.

"According to fortune-telling, who you were in your former life is shown by the way you hold your hands. I hold my hands with my right thumb on top." He showed them all how he clasped his hands. "And that means I was born a male in a pat life."

"Really," asked Joseph, who held his hands the same way Oingo did for a moment. "Cause my left thumb naturally goes on top…"

"Heh heh! Then you were _definitely_ a woman in a pat life, _Monsieur_ Joestar!"

"What do you mean I definitely was?!" He sounded almost offended. "How the hell do you prove that?!"

As everyone laughed along with the silliness, Oingo held his head in his hands and muttered, "Such n-nonsense." Only Joaquín could hear him, and he could feel that he was getting close to his breaking point. He had felt just how terrified he was and the toll it was no doubt having on his hammering heart (something Preciosa's hearing managed to pick up). This would be the perfect moment to bring things home and harmlessly finish off the impostor.

" _Hey, Joutarou, relax_ ," said Joaquín as he thumped his fake brother's back. " _You look as if you're gonna have a heart attack._ " He simply gave him a seething look, clearly hating him for dragging him into this situation. But he did bring this upon himself for even _thinking_ he could pull one over the them. "Here, maybe this will help." He then reached over Jean Pierre's seat and snatched the orange-concealed bomb from him holding it at eye-level with a worried Oingo.

"Abuelita _used to tell me the best remedies were the simplest. No matter what it was, she'd usually make some soup and give me a freshly squeezed glass of orange juice. I say we get some vitamin C in your system. What do you say?_ "

Joaquín dug his nails into the orange to open it. He didn't get to open it before Oingo shrieked in terror and flew into a panic. "DON'T KILL ME," he screamed as he undid his seat belt and flung himself out the door with no other warning. The others watched as he fled while Joaquín erupted in laughter.

"J-Jojo, just whats going on," asked Della, utterly confused and wide-eyed as Joseph stopped the car. "Why's Joutarou acting like that? And why do you think its funny?"

"B-Because," he gasped between his laughs. "That wasn't- That wasn't- Oh my god, that was so perfect!"

"Jojo, that wasn't what?"

It took him a moment for him to catch his breath. "That wasn't Joutarou at all! It was a Stand user disguised as him!"

Everyone else shouting a collective "WHAT?!" of disbelief.

"I know! But this guy had the same kind of ability as that Yellow Temperance! He sneaked to the car and tried planting a bomb, then he changed his looks to Joutarou's and tried lying! And after that, I just took him along for the ride to fuck with him!"

Joseph's eyes could not be any wider. It was as if his grandson had spouted the most nonsensical story he could come up with. Only he believed it. And it did not make him happy at all. "You willingly let one of Dio's men get close to us like that? Have you lost your mind?! We could have died!"

"But we're all okay! Come on, you think I'm actually gonna let a _pendejo_ like him hurt you guys like that? No! Besides, I told you, I brought him along to fuck with him. Just scare him enough to drive him away. And I did! From the cigarettes to the orange!"

"Why the orange," asked Jean Pierre, eyeing it curiously. "Isn't that the same one Iggy had in his mouth?"

"Yeah, he threw it out. This was a bomb he tried to plant for Joutarou." Everyone backed away from him immediately, eyes widened in fear. "Relax. I don't think it's timed at all. I think he just wanted Joutarou to open it so it could blow up in _his_ face."

"W-Why him?! And why didn't you throw it away?!"

"The fake tried, but Iggy got to it. He said it had something to do with some prediction his brother made. I think- Oh, hold on." He had Preciosa appear and take it, his Stand throwing it out his window behind them as far as he could. "Okay, so I think the reason he was flipping out was because he was disguised as Joutarou. And he might have thought that he was effectively replacing him in that so-called prophecy. That's part of why I scared the hell out of him."

Everyone was agape in silence once he finished. The only one to break it was Della. "You know something, Jojo," she started slowly, "this might have been one of the craziest things you've ever come up with… But you know what else?" She smiled and pulled him into a deep kiss. "It's those crazy ideas that make you one hell of a genius."

His heart warmed as he smiled widely back at her. "What can I say? Crazy ideas run in the family." Joseph, who recounted his battles and the ingenious and insane tricks he pulled to attain victory, smiled at the compliment. "Besides, he was a wimp. I didn't have it in me to properly beat him up. I mean, he tried getting us with a _bomb_ , for god's sake. How stupid and wimpy is that? I would have rather had that prophecy or whatever do him in."

And just as Joaquín finished his sentence, a distant explosion rang out behind them. He didn't look back like the others, but was rather frozen in place. Then they looked back at him, to which he said, "Well… Looks like I spoke right on time. It _did_ do him in."

"Should, er, we go check on him," she said tentatively.

"Um… You know what, no. Let's not. I don't wanna add insult to injury, considering I've insulted him enough."

Without the impostor sitting within punching distance, Joaquín was able to unwind through the rest of the ride to the hospital. His battle, if he could even call it that, was one of the more interesting he'd ever been in. There were no punches thrown or blood shed at all. Simply psychological torture to break his opponent mentally. And he won. _Man, Joutarou's gonna get a kick out of this one_ , he thought proudly. _He probably would have done the same thing, too._

Speaking of his brother, was mere feet away from entering the hospital when they arrived. He stopped and turned to the car as they pulled up behind him, getting out to greet him. " _Joutarou, aren't you sweating from wearing all that_ ," asked Della as they approached.

" _Yes_ ," he said flatly, which was rather welcoming to them. " _And my legs are on fire. But it was a good exercise. Where were you you guys? You came a little later than I thought._ "

Joaquín approached him and said in amusement, "Oh, Joutarou, you won't believe what happened." And so he told them everything that had happened with the impostor. While the elder brother found this all amusing, even laughing when he brought up the cigarettes, the younger didn't so much as smile. Once the story finished, Joutarou merely shook his head.

" _Yare yare daze_ ," he muttered in exasperation. " _That was the stupidest thing I've ever heard._ "

" _But you believe me, right? I've got four other witnesses to all this._ "

" _I believe you. But it's still stupid. Not cause you endangered yourselves, but because someone thought they could try to kill me with a simple bomb._ "

" _I know, right?!_ "

Just as they were about to walk in, an ambulance wailed its way towards the hospital as well. When it stopped and opened its back doors, they could see two people inside on gurneys. One of them was a boy with a beaten-up face and large hair that stuck out everywhere. A large book rested on his lap. The second was none other than Oingo, covering his bloody, mangled face with an ice pack. Joaquín assumed the boy was the man' little brother he had heard of.

" _Hey, those aren't the brothers you were talking about, are they_ ," asked Joutarou, taking an orange from the bag Della had carried.

"Oh my, you're right," she exclaimed. "And look at that boy! You don't think he was caught in the explosion, do you?"

"Only one way to find out.," said Joaquín, who approached the injured brothers. The medics turned to him curiously, who he told, "I'm their friend. I came to check on them. Mind if I talk to them for a bit?" They nodded and stepped back, leaving him with the two. He took a moment to better look at them, noticing that the boy showed no signs of being anywhere near the bomb. Looking back at Oingo, he saw that he too had bruises all over his ruined face and arms.

"Geez, what happened to you? This wasn't just because of the bomb, was it?"

Oingo slowly shook his head, whining in pain from even moving it. He then raised a finger to his brother's book. Confused, Joaquín reached out to the book, only stopping when the boy gave him a fearful look. "It's okay," he said reassuringly. "I'm gonna put it back. Your brother wants me to look at it."

With him giving a nod of confirmation, Joaquín carefully took it and examined the cover. It was called _Oingo Boingo Brothers Adventure_ , with bizarre caricatures of the brothers before him. He didn't take his time reading all of it, simply skimming through. Everything was in the same wacky style, depicting the shy owner of the book and his brother. But what was strange was some of the events that unfolded, which lined up eerily to the events of today.

For starters, Boingo had been visited by a man who took a bus and ended up impaled in the neck on a telephone pole. Just like they had witnessed this morning Then there were silly drawings of himself and the group, discussing their injured friends and nearly being poisoned at a cafe. The same cafe his grandfather expressed worry about that exact thing.

 _So this is that kid's Stand_ , he thought with a shiver. _He's able to view the future with this. But how much can he predict?_

Reading further, he saw that Oingo punched some innocent man over his appearance. And then there was the car bomb, which, as the elder brother mentioned, actually _was_ meant for Joutarou. But because he had disguised himself as him, _he_ was the one who was injured. After that, the man whose face was punched had caught up with the brothers with his own posse. _Looks like they got their comeuppance for all this._ Turning the page, he saw that the rest of the book was blank.

"So I'm guessing that this book only reads into the immediate future," he stated as he set it back on Boingo's lap.

He nodded.

"And I'm also guessing that all this is accurate, but it has to be interpreted properly for the right results."

Another nod.

"Like, if my brother was with us and not yours, _he_ would have gotten hit by the explosion."

Yet another nod, followed by a quiet stammer."M-M-My Stand… Divine T-Thoth's p-predictions… are a-a-a-a-a-absolutely one hundred p-percent… Y-Yes…"

He looked back at the book, then at the two brothers. "You both have some interesting Stands. With the powers you have, you could actually use them to help others. Maybe even entertain them." The brothers looked curiously at him, unsure as to whether Joaquín was serious or not. "Listen, you both have potential. I'm sure Dio's told you the same thing. But you could use it for so much more than trying to kill us. You can use it for good. You can make a name of yourselves.

"I can't control what paths you guys will take. All I can do is offer my own advice to you. Whether you accept it or not, it's your choice… I wish you both a safe recovery. And I'm sorry that I put you through hell" And he meant it. He knew that, among the scum Dio had hired to do them in, there were good, yet confused hearts. N'Dour and Chor Dette were some. These brothers were another. He could see it in their eyes that despite their actions, they were not truly bad people.

Joaquín could not bring himself to hate them. And he prayed that they _do_ follow his advice. Nobody like them deserved to die all because of that villain Dio…

~+JO*JO+~

"Say... Did you know, Pucci, that the Louvre in Paris is said to have an average of 40,000 visitors in a single day? Recently, I've seen a concert with this man named Michael Jackson on television with the same amount of people, but it's not often this happens. The Louvre has been this way every day for decades. The building opened in 1793. And every day, at least 40,000 people go there, attracted to Mona Lisa and Venus de Milo. And they won't leave until they have seen them both.

"Is that not something amazing?"

"Do you mean to say the numbers are amazing?"

"Not so... What is excellent is how painters and sculptors are able to make their own souls visible through their work. Almost akin to a Stand that could transcend time and space. Do you not think so? Especially the Mona Lisa or Venus de Milo..."

"Quite an interesting story... So Leonardo da Vinci was a Stand user?"

"Hey... I'm talking about you as well. Your Whitesnake can shape souls and preserve them.

"...

"Are you going to betray me someday? Why do you not attack me? You know my weakness is sunlight... and that I sleep in darkness during the day. You're easily capable of killing me as I sleep... You could become a king if you make The World into a disc and take it.

"Do it..."

"...

"I have never thought of such a thing. I admire those who help me grow myself. To me, you are the king of kings. Where are you going? I want to go with you. I love you as I love God."

"..."

"..."

"... I have insulted you... I'm sorry... I never would have thought it myself... a person who puts my mind at ease just by speaking with him... I was afraid that you would disappear... You will become a noble clergyman... Take it... a sign of my apology… I pulled it out of my body just now…

"No matter where you are... I will bring you power… Pucci…"

~THE OINGO BOINGO BROTHERS: RETIRED~

* * *

This one was a very tricky chapter to write. I knew I was gonna have trouble deciding how to go about this. At first, thought about switching the perspective mainly to Boingo, but I was finding that a bit difficult. Even in Joaquin's perspective, this chapter was a bit odd to do. And yet here are. With all that said, thanks for reading this chapter! I'll see you all next time!


	29. More Than You Know

So I did a new cover for this story. It's kinda tough to see, but it depicts Joaquin, Della and Joutarou. If you wanna look at a better resolution of the image, check out my instagram (shen_valor). You can also find it on AO3 under the same name. I also shortened the story name. I was going with the original format of the parts before they gained their individual names. Anyway, I kinda had some trouble with this chapter, but it wasn't too bad to work it out. The problem was whether or not to make this a two-parter or not. I decided in the end to go with it. With all that said, as always, I hope you guys all enjoy.

* * *

Ch. 29  
More Than You Know

JANUARY 5TH, 1989  
06:14  
KOM OMBO, EGYPT

There came good news and bad news when the group paid both Noriaki and Mohamed a visit. Good news was that the latter (his neck wrapped up) was cleared to go that night, and the former (his eyes wrapped up) would be able to keep his sight after all.

" _It seems like my pupils weren't cut_ ," he had told them all, " _so my eyes should heal up pretty soon. When I was in secondary school, a classmate of mine was hit in the eye with a baseball so hard that it crumpled. But by the next day, it had healed up. Apparently jut some fluid leaked out of it._ "

The bad news was not their rather high bill of 46,350 Egyptian pounds, but the fact that Noriaki had to stay behind. While more than okay, he could not risk damaging his eyes further in the hot and bright environment.

" _I can take these bandages off in a few days_ ," he reassured them with a smile. " _I'll come after you guys afterwards… Dio is about 800km away in Cairo… Until then, everyone… please be careful as you continue your travels._ "

With Noriaki's encouragement, Joaquín and the others traveled on without him. They were neither saddened nor worried by his absence. The youth was more than capable of defending himself, even without his eyes. And he _did_ promise to make it back to them in one piece. Joaquín had the utmost confidence that by the time they reach Cairo, they would be reunited.

It was the dawn of the next day. The group had chartered a small sailboat to travel up the Nile the night before and had sailed safely since. They were about to reach was Kom Ombo, a quaint, former city turned agricultural town that housed a rather unique temple. From there, they would visit Edfu, then Luxor, and finally make their way further up north until they reached Cairo. They would not stay here for long, merely making a small pit stop until they continued.

"In ancient times," began Joseph as they watched the rising sun, "the Egyptians buried their dead in the direction of the setting sun against the Nile River. Thus, every town we see was built to the east. All structures to the west are buildings associated with tombs or the dead. But our enemies don't care about the living east or the deceased west. They will attack us from all directions. Even when we relax, we must always be on the lookout."

"I think they're the ones who need to look out," said Della as she and Joaquín were in the middle of holding a tree pose. With the gentle rocking of the boat, it gave them quite a challenge to keep their balance. "I mean, with as much as we've been kicking everyone's asses, you'd think they'd learn not to mess with us anymore. Right Jojo?"

Joaquín, who was channeling his _hamon_ and was glowing from its energy, simply nodded in agreement. His enemies were not his primary focus, but his breathing was. Having mastered the ability to breathe in and out for a combined twenty minutes earlier, he was currently aiming for forty. It was much harder, and it required all of his concentration. And while he was attentive to his surroundings, he could not break his focus just yet.

He had two minutes to go.

"That may be, Della, but we can't drop our guard. Always expect the unexpected." In his peripheral vision, he could see his grandfather suddenly grab a nearby can and chuck it with all his might at Joaquín. Luckily, Preciosa was faster, catching the can and throwing it back in one swift motion. Joseph chuckled after he had caught it, proud of his grandson's reflexes. "He knows exactly what I'm talking about. Good timing, kid."

"Speaking of which, Mr. Joestar, how strong do you think Jojo is? Compared to you?"

He took off his hat and scratched his head for a moment. "Let's see… In comparison to strength, when I met him, his strength was stronger than when I was a teenager. But not at the same level of when I finished my training. Looking at my grandson now… he's far stronger than when I fought Kahz."

Joaquín finally finished his breathing, relaxing his pose and breathing. He looked down at his hands in wonder. He could feel slightly stronger just by overcoming another limit. "I'm kinda happy you think that," he said humbly as he now gave his grandfather his undivided attention. "But I don't think that, no matter how much I train my _hamon_ , I could use it to defeat Dio."

" _Niisan_ is right," muttered Joutarou, adjusting his cap. "Dio's had experience with _hamon_ after fighting Jonathan, right? He's more than likely prepared himself for that. Using it would be a huge risk, especially up close."

"But that does _not_ mean we don't have a chance. Now, let's get our stuff. Looks like we're already here."

Indeed they were. They brought their boat to a stop and gathered their belongings before stepping foot onto land. To the north of them was a town, but their interest lied in what was around them. Several traders huddled around and bargaining with one another, some gazing curiously at the group. And just past them was the Temple of Kom Ombo, built long ago in dedication to two different Egyptian gods. It was a rather interesting tourist spot, one they would undoubtedly check out.

As they approached the temple, Joaquín noticed something laying forgotten on the ground. It looked like a book. Curious, he detached himself from the group and approached it before gently picking it up. It was indeed a book, fat and weathered with what looked like a house-shaped structure emblazoned on it. There was no name on it at all. _That's weird. There's no way someone would forget a book like this at all._

Before he could open the book to see its contents, a dark, multi-ringed hand reached out from behind and snatched it from his grip. "I'll be taking that," said a stern, feminine voice over his shoulder. Turning around, he saw a young, sharp-nosed woman with inky black eyes and short hair in a bottle-green blouse over black trousers. She wore a small, golden ankh around her neck, glistening against her dark skin. This woman immediately reminded him of most old librarians he ever met.

"Uh, sorry," he apologized. "Is that book yours?"

"Clearly." She even spoke in clipped tones, which fitted her strict, professional appearance. The woman then took a moment to look him over, her dark eyes scanning him rather quickly. "You're a tourist, aren't you? I can tell by you and the few others walking around. In fact, I can tell other things about you just by looking at you."

"Like what?" He crossed his arms and smirked. "That I look like a punk? It's not the first time I've heard that one."

"Yes. But you also have the look of a warrior. A man who has gone through many difficult battles and came out victorious in the end. A pillar of undefeatable strength. If I had to compare you to someone, I would say you remind me of Alexander the Great, the former warrior king of Macedon."

 _Like him_ , he thought in bewilderment. _I know a lot of people back in New York said I was almost unbeatable, but I've never been compared to anyone like that. Especially Alexander. That guy's gone 15 years without losing once!_ "G-Geez, thank you," he humbly said, a light blush of pride on his cheeks. "You're the first to tell me-"

And then, she leaned her face close to his, freezing him in place. His breathing stopped, though he barely noticed it. In a soft, cold whisper, she spoke again. "I can also tell you where and how you received each of these scars just by tracing them."

To prove her point, she ran a finger gently along his right index finger. The touch felt as intimate as it did bizarre. He couldn't pull away. "This one in particular… You grabbed something very sharp and jagged… Like sharkskin… Two months ago…"

 _That's Doble Filo, Peter the Blade's Stand..!_

"And here," she moves her hand up to his head, trailing her finger along the small, scabbed-over scar along his forehead from his fight with Geb, "you were sliced by something… fluid… Like a jet of pressurized water… Two days ago."

He was shocked. _She wasn't kidding when she said she knew… How the hell did she do that..?_ Joaquín was at a loss for words.

"Forgive me." The lady stepped away from him, giving him a chance to let out the breath he held. "I've always been fascinated with warriors and the battled they held. Seeing the scars across your body made me want to learn some of the battles you have gone through."

"I'm... flattered. Really, I am." He offered her a sincere smile, which hid his discomfort towards her. He wanted to get as far away from her as possible. "But, er… I'm kinda busy at the moment." He looked around, trying to find his friends. They were talking with some of the traders, but he noticed that among the group, a certain silver-haired man was missing. "I gotta go meet up with a friend of mine. I think he's at the temple. It was nice meeting you, miss…"

"Martika," she answered as he trailed off. And without another word, Joaquín quickly strode towards the temple. Never in his life did he feel uncomfortable around another woman until today. He wasn't shy, not at all. But everything about Martika, from her icy voice to her gentle touch, made him lock up. And not in a good way. He was glad to be getting away from her, all while he silently prayed he would never see her again.

Upon reaching the courtyard of to the stone temple, he heard some pained grunts and the clash of steel on steel echoing from within. He recognized these as the sounds of Jean Pierre and Silver Chariot, undoubtedly fighting against someone with a blade. _Another Stand attack_ , he wondered as he quietly made his way inside. It certainly felt like it, given how tense the air felt. With one last clash, silence fell, save for someone's footsteps

.Joaquín hid himself against one of the pillars, keeping an eye out for his friend. Once he spotted him, he quietly made his way towards him. Jean Pierre noticed him and silently waved for him to get closer. "Jean Pierre," he whispered when he came to his side, "what the hell happened here? And what happened to you?" He pointed to the bleeding slash across his biceps, which seemed to run even under the strap of his shirt.

"A Stand user with a sword," he whispered. "He slashed right through a pillar and got me. Even through my shirt… He looks like an amateur, but his skill is almost professional. He's like a demon… And I just lost him… He's still here."

"That's weird… Those pillars are pretty wide… How big was his sword?"

"Average length of a katana. And my Chariot's reach is only a meter…" He looked around the temple, trying to find his enemy. "Damnit… I can't believe I, Polnareff, am struggling in a sword fight… That cheeky bastard's totally mocking me… But he won't be conceited for long…" He ran over to a broken pillar and leaped on top of it, Joaquín following suit. It was clear that with the higher ground, they had the advantage now.

"Come on, Chaka boy," he loudly teased, his voice echoing lightly in the temple. "How's this, huh? Bring it on. I can see everywhere now, so sneaking up on me from another pillar's pointless now. Or were you going to get me from underground? Ha ha ha ha ha!"

An echoing, low chuckle was what he was answered with. The two looked around, trying to discern where exactly it came from, but it seemed to come from all around. Not even Preciosa could discern where it came from. Looking down at the shadows cast by the morning sun against the pillars, he saw nothing that would give away their enemy. _Where the hell is he..?_ And then, there came a crumbling noise behind them. They turned around to see one of the pillars collapsing in their direction.

And hanging atop it was an arm holding a long sword.

"My blade doesn't just go through thing," roared the an known as Chaka as he came down. "I could even cut down the pillars themselves!" The sword raised up, ready to slash through. "DIE, POLNAREFF, JOAQUÍN!"

"Preciosa!" Both Joaquín's Stand and Silver Chariot burst forth from their users. While the former as poised to punch the enemy into oblivion, the later merely aimed his rapier at another pillar. What happened next left Joaquín speechless. The rapier's blade shot off its guard like a missile, jetting straight at the stone and then bouncing off. And then came the sound of it stabbing the enemy, who gagged in pain. Jean Pierre jumped off his perch as the structure crumbled beside it.

Joaquín was simply standing there with his jaw hanging open. It took him a moment to process everything before saying, "Okay, can you tell me what the fuck I just witnessed?"

The Frenchman chuckled and approached their fallen foe. A shoeless, tan boy with a loose, yellow tunic and ragged dark pants. He looked poor, a far cry from what they normally encountered. "That was my secret technique," he said smugly as Silver Chariot stuck his guard into the blade and pulled it out of his neck. "Nobody, not even Joutarou, knows about it. But I only have one chance to use it. I could end up losing it if it's dodged. That's why I only really use it when I'm in danger."

It was now that Joaquín realized that he did _not_ lie to Mohamed last month. "You really _were_ holding back…"

"Yes. I wanted a fair fight back then. Or maybe it was the flesh bud holding me back. In any case," he looks over at the twitching boy, "the wound doesn't look fatal. But it should be enough to retire him."

"Just don't let Mohamed find out about this." He looked over to the blade Chaka dropped, a beautiful black handle with a flat, golden pommel and a matching, uniquely-crafted guard unlike any katana he has ever seen. But the blade was mysteriously back in its black scabbard. "That's weird… It's been sheathed."

Jean Pierre looked over at the sword before kneeling picking it up. "That _is_ strange," he mused. It must have happened by accident… Let's pull it out and… "He then took the sword and slowly pulled the blade out, only to stop when about a few inches were exposed. It was unlike any blade, expertly-forged and shining in the morning light. A soft hum seemed to emanate from it, undoubtedly from being unsheathed. The two were completely mesmerized by it's beauty.

And yet, Joaquín felt there was something dangerous about the blade.

"Looking closer at this sword," Jean Pierre said slowly, as if in a trance, " _c'est absolument magnifique…_ I should try pulling it out…"

As Jean Pierre tried to pull more of it out, Joaquín could hear the blade humming more. The sense of danger grew inside his heart. He felt something awful would happen if the sword was completely taken out. But just like with the woman from before, he couldn't move. He couldn't stop it.

"Hey, Polnareff, Joaquín," called out Joseph in the distance, and the blade disappeared into its scabbard. The trance wore off and the two noticed him and the others approaching them from the courtyard, looking worried. "Where've you been? We were worried you both ran off on your own. What if you both ended up attacked?"

"Well…" Joaquín looked at the Frenchman who gripped his head and looked disoriented. _What's up with him_ , he thought with curious suspicion. _It's like he just woke up…_ "Jean Pierre, you okay?"

"Huh?" He looked at him and their group before shaking his head and rising to his feet, muttering "Yes, I'm fine."

"Hey, what's with that sword," asked Della as she pointed to it on the ground. She then noticed the now unconscious Chaka beside the rubble of the fallen pillar. "Oh my god, what happened here?!"

Jean Pierre's hotheadedness returned as he growled, "Right. I was attacked by an enemy. But Joaquín and I took care of it."

"An enemy," Mohamed nearly shouted, turning his attention to the fallen swordsman. "Was it that boy?"

" _Oui._ But it's already over. He's a Stand user who's implied to use the Divine Anubis. He was an sword master who used his Stand to cut through things without destroying them. He was pretty strong." An unusual, firm confidence shone through as he said this. Perhaps it was from winning a sword fight with Silver Chariot. "He also had this swo- Hey!"

When he had reached for the sword, it had not been there. Apparently it was moving away from them, being carried on the back of mice. It was a confusing sight, but they didn't have time to question it before Jean Pierre scattered them away with a swipe of his foot and reclaimed the blade. "Shitty rats… Even here they're compulsive thieves! Why don't you go steal some cheese, you assholes?!"

"Well, we're happy you both managed to win," said Joseph appreciatively. "Just be careful and don't act alone. We're in a place where being alone even for a few minutes can lead to an attack. Now, come boys! Lets get back to the boat. Edfu awaits!"

The two nodded and followed them back to their boat without another word. Before he boarded, Joaquín took a moment to look around the area. There was no sign of that creepy Martika anywhere, which made him sigh in relief. The last thing he wanted to see was that woman again.

~+JO*JO+~

Edfu was like any other city they had visited in Egypt thus far. There were diverse social groups from the nomadic Bedouin to Nubians who have lived in Egypt since ancient times. There were many shops and an abundance of trade wherever you go. And there were ancient sites that attracted tourism. Like Kom Ombo, Edfu had a temple devoted to a god. According to Mohamed, this one worshiped the Egyptian god of skies, the hawk-headed Horus.

The gang had split up into groups of three upon arriving. Della and Mohamed left to order them some hotel rooms for the night, as well as buy some food. Joutarou joined with Jean Pierre to keep him company while the latter was getting a shave at a barbershop. And Joaquín and Joseph traveled to the Temple of Edfu, the same one that honored Horus. They weren't there to sight-see, as many usually do there.

"We're going here to do some _hamon_ training," announced Joseph a they approached it tall entrance. "You're strong, more than me. And I can't be any prouder. But in combat, there are certain techniques you must learn if you hope to stand a chance. I don't know how Dio will fight is, but if push comes to shove, you have to use some techniques other than a simple punch."

"What else do you have to teach me, _Abuelito,_ " asked Joaquín curiously. He had never thought of using special _hamon_ techniques or creating any aside from his Crescent _Azul_ Overload (which he could only use underwater). And now he was about to learn some his grandfather undoubtedly used in the past. How many did he learn from his former masters? And how many of them were naturally his own?

"Just three techniques. And given how quickly you learned to master forty minutes of a single inhale and exhale, you should have no problem learning these." He stopped in the middle of the temple courtyard, him and his grandson the only person there. He then turned to face him, both standing some feet apart from one another. "Now, I want you to focus your _hamon_ and throw a punch at me. With your right fist. I'll throw one as well."

He nodded and centered his focus on his breathing. It relaxed enough for his body to spark up with _hamon_ , which his grandfather seemed to mimic as well. They both prepared themselves, channeling their energy to their arms, and threw a punch that stopped just inches apart from their faces. And yet, Joseph's fist didn't stop. Without moving his body, his arm stretched out farther than it should have, aiming straight for his face. Joaquín couldn't help but grab his fist before it made contact.

Joseph, who expected this, smiled. "You saw that, right," he asked before retracting his arm. "We're both the same length when it comes to arms, and yet my fist nearly came close to hitting you. Why do you think that is?" Joaquín had no answer, merely replying with a shrug. "It's simple. Using my _hamon_ , I separate my joints and soften the pain with it. From there, I can extend my punch and strike farther than I normally can. If only a short amount."

 _Stretching your limbs to strike? That sounds as dangerous as it does awesome._ "So what's it called?"

"The Zoom Punch. The first technique you'll learn. Now, pay attention,because this is tricky. You have three major joints: shoulder, elbow and wrist. You have to learn to separate all three and pull your punch back in time to reunite them. It will be painful, that's why you have to focus your energy on those joints." He looked back at his hand and smiled. "To be honest, I didn't expect I could pull it off as well as I did at my current age."

"Okay, let me try it." Joaquín faced away from his grandfather and focused his _hamon_ within his arm, just as he was instructed. Most of it was focused on the elbow joint. When he threw his punch, he felt it. His upper and lower arm dislocated and separated. He could feel his skin stretch, his muscles stretch, and a numb, heated pain where the joint was. His glowing fist extended for a brief second before pulling back into place. "Ha! I can do it! That's so awesome!"

Joseph couldn't smile any wider. "Atta boy, Joaquín," he said proudly, patting his back. "But that was only one joint. You have two more to separate together."

"I know. I just figured, since this was the first time, I should get used to doing it to one and work my way up."

"That's a good way to start. But learn quick. I have two more to teach you. One of which involves your hair-"

"You can use your _hair_ ," he asked with a chuckle.

"Yes you can. And it's easy. The third is a technique Speedwagon saw my grandfather do with his own eyes. I only practiced it, but never pulled it off in battle. It's called the Sunlight Yellow Overdrive." As Joaquín punched the air, stretching and retracting his arm each time, Joseph took a seat beside him. "Think of it the way your Stand punches. But it's only _your_ fists, enveloped in _hamon_ and pouring it into your opponent with each swift and heavy blow."

"Sounds pretty strong." Joaquín punched again. He was slowly getting the hang of dislocating his shoulder now for his Zoom Punch. "Maybe enough to beat Dio if he didn't have a Stand."

"It even had some silly rhyme to it. Let me see… It went something like, 'With trembling heart, and scorching heat, I'll cut right through with my blood's beat.' At least I think it did. It makes sense, given that you're generating enough _hamon_ to be as hot as the sun."

"Heh. You won't hear me saying something that silly. It's like Overdrive. I'm telling you, Overload sounds much cooler and meaningful. Overdrive makes no sense"

"I myself have been very impartial to Overdrive as well."

Both grandfather and grandson wheeled around and saw a woman entering the courtyard, the sight of whom made Joaquín blanch. It was Martika, still cold-faced and carrying her ancient book. _How the hell did she get here_ , he thought in disbelief. _Was she eavesdropping on us to find out where I was headed?_

"You know, the practice of _Sendou_ began in China, during the Xia Dynasty. Back then, it was known as _Xiandao_. The man who first practiced and founded the art was simply named Old Cui. Seeking enlightenment, he scaled the Zhongan mountains and trained upon its peaks, emptying his mind and focusing his breathing. Quite by accident, his body became enveloped in the very sparks you both can create. He had harnessed the very power of the sun.

"From then on, he trained himself for twenty years before descending back to his home village where he taught many disciples his art. He tasked them to take their knowledge and spread it all across Asia. Of course, it wasn't until _Xiandao_ was introduced in Japan that it became _Sendou_ , and became well known throughout the old world. He was proud, and would still be if he were here today to see it had lasted so long."

The two shared a glance before Joaquín spoke to her. "I bet he would. Listen, is there something you need from me? Because I'm getting the distinct feeling you're purposefully following me and it's honestly making me feel uncomfortable."

"You met her before," asked Joseph before standing to his feet, looking just as wary as his grandson.

"You both have incredible stories to tell," she said almost seductively. She then opened the book and gently turned the pages, her eyes locked with theirs. "One day, your names will be etched in history, ready to tell the world of your legendary battles... Joseph Joestar… And Joaquín Trejo…"

 _She knows our names… Only one kind of creep would know our names…_

The duo silently manifested their Stands, Preciosa ready to fight beside Joaquín and Hermit Purple entangling around Joseph's arm. Martika stopped on a page and gently blew against it. Dust rose from the page and swirled between them both like a miniature dust devil. It slowly began to form feet, then legs, then the body of a Chinese man wearing a brown robe, his head bald and his eyes a well of dark determination. He said nothing as he rushed them, his body instantly glowing with the light of _hamon_.

This man was Old Cui, the founder of the very art they practiced.

"Preciosa!"

"Hermit Purple!"

Both the frog-like man and the vines shot towards their new opponent, who rushed at them just as fast. He jumped over Preciosa's punch and weaved through the thicket Hermit Purple created to try and catch him, using his palms to move them out of the way. He then landed in front of Joseph and struck him in the chest with an open palm, making him skid some feet away. His grandson had turned and started to attack the man in tandem with his Stand. But both their blows were blocked with little effort.

"How the hell is this even possible," he shouted to Martika, who hadn't moved as she watched the ensuing fight. "Isn't this man dead or something?!"

"You are correct," she spoke calmly as she idly turned the pages of her book. "But you are not fighting the true Cui. Simply a spirit in the prime of his strength pulled from within these very pages. This book, imbued with the ancient Stand, Goddess Nephthys, can allow me to summon the spirits of warriors who have passed on. Everything from their personalities, their styles, their fighting spirit, and even some of their natural quirks."

As if to prove her point, the _Sendou_ master stopped his attack and pulled from under his robes a gourd to take a sip out of. "One of _his_ is his love of drinking in the middle of battle. Sometimes he will even drink while striking." When he finished, Cui resumed his masterful fighting against Joaquín. Every one of his strikes held power to them. Every movement he made was swift and fluid. He made no mistakes in his actions. This man was perfect.

But he was _not_ invincible.

"Gah, enough of this," said Joaquín as he recalled his Stand. "I'll fight you at your own game, _viejo_!" He focused his breathing once again and sparked up his entire body, ready to fight the man with his own power. Cui gave him an amused smile before the two began to fight hand-to-hand. It didn't improve his chances of winning, but worsened them. This became very clear once Joaquín threw another punch, only to have it swiped away with the master's palm and leave everything open.

Only one thought ran through his mind.

 _This is gonna hurt…_

Then came the massive barrage of open palmed strikes all across his chest and face, each one brimming with blazing heat. There was no time for Preciosa to come out and stop it, his mind was disorientated and his breathing was thrown off balance. One final strike to the chest sent him skidding along his back to join his grandfather as a hot, aching mess.

"Joaquín," exclaimed Joseph, helping him to his feet. "Are you okay?"

"Dunno," he admitted as he wobbled. "His blows are so… perfect and precise… It's like he's his own Stand. That man is a master for a reason…" He looked down his shirt to see pink patches where the _hamon_ -infused blows landed on his chest. "How the hell are we gonna beat him? He can clearly see our Stands, and his _Sendou_ is out of our league… There's gotta be a way."

"This man more than likely lived around the same time as the Pillar Men appeared in history. His knowledge of _Sendou_ is far more ancient than what my grandfather and myself were taught."

"Meaning?"

"You know the saying, 'You can't teach an old dog new tricks'?"

He had, and he knew exactly where he was coming from. The idiom was used for people who have been doing the same thing for so long that they won't try anything new. But Joaquín understood that Cui's old way of _Sendou_ could be overwhelmed by modern techniques. And he was certain the one he had been practicing was modern enough to do the trick.

Joaquín looked back at Cui, who simply took another swig from his gourd and continued to glow. The two locked eyes for a moment, during which the younger of the two raised his hand and motioned for him to come try again. Cui simply scoffed and put his gourd away before rushing towards the two again. This time, no Stands were summoned. Their fists were primed and ready to strike at the best opportunity. And it came when he jumped into the air.

"NOW," shouted Joseph, whose fist shot out at the man and stretched. Joaquín did the same, but rather than stretch, he feinted. Because he had an idea as to what the master would do, and he was right when it began to unfold before him. Cui pushed away Joseph's Zoom Punch, then tried to do the same to Joaquín. But with nothing but air to push, he left himself open. The real second Zoom Punch, with all three joints separated, sprung out at him and struck him straight into the gut, making him wheeze and disrupt his breathing.

But he wasn't done yet. Preciosa rushed out and pummeled the spirit of Old Cui with a roar of " _¡TOMATOMATOMA!_ " before sending him flying into a wall with one powerful punch. The impact turned his body into dust, which flew back into Martika's book. His defeat was not met with her rage, but rather an applause.

"Oh, yes," she exclaimed, her voice almost lusting over the violence. "Bravo! Your fight was incredible! Such strength! Such strategy! I never would have expected you to defeat the master of _Xiandao_ , but clearly I was wrong! You have my respect, boys.! But this does not mean our battle is over! So long as I have this book, I will continue to summon more warriors to try and kill you! I will have your names etched within these pages!"

Joaquín could only whisper to his grandfather, " _Ella e'ta loca._ " To which was met with an understanding nod. He then called out to the woman, "Listen, if you think you have a chance at killing us, then go ahead and send more after us. Trust me, we've both fought more men than you ever fought in your entire life. We can take down whoever you summon, be it one man or an army!"

At the mention of the word army, Martika smiled widely. She re-opened her book and flipped some more pages before stopping and blowing deeply against it. A whirlwind of dust flew out and swirled before them. " _Abuelito_ , brace yourself," warned Joaquín as the two got into fighting stances. From within the dust came men in ancient armor and swords, all of whom ran directly at the two.

Preciosa wasted no time unleashing his usual barrage of punches to knock them away. They immediately turned to dust upon landing on their backs, but as one fell, two more ran out from the small tornado. Joseph's Hermit Purple spread and tripped as many as it could, sending them into Joaquín's endless maelstrom of fists. All the while, Martika stood behind laughing with her book in hand. He knew there was not way to beat her unless they took that from her.

" _Abuelito_ , aim for her instead," he yelled. "I'll keep punching!"

The thorned vines ignored the soldiers, slithering as fast as they could towards their enemy. But when they reached her and attempted to take the book, Martika blew once more against the page. The dust immediately formed a hand, which wrapped itself around Hermit Purple and pulled hard. Joseph was sent flying towards her, then punched away by a second hand onto his back. More dust began to form until it took the form of another soldier, attaching itself to the disembodied arms.

But this one was different. His very appearance made the others stop their assault.

Garbed in golden armor, a helmet with great white feathers atop it and a blue cape over his shoulders, there stood a very powerful looking man. What little dark blonde curls fell from his helmet framed his handsome, fair face perfectly. The soldiers saw the man forming and shouted something in an ancient language, each of them stopping and opening a path between Joaquín and the newcomer. Blazing blue eyes locked with hard, blue and brown.

And then, the man spoke to the troops in the same language as they did, his voice commanding and powerful. Whatever it was he said, they all nodded and backed away, giving the two more space. He then looked up and smiled at Joaquín and spoke in perfect English. "I never would have thought I'd return to the land of the living… just to face another warrior in combat… Tell me… what is your name?"

"Joaquín Trejo," he answered, Preciosa's fists clenched and ready.

"I will remember that name. I am Alexandros the Third. But your history knows me by another name."

He didn't need to ask. He already knew. And it sent an excited chill down his back. "Alexander the Great… I'm honored to stand before you. But I kinda have an issue here that we've gotta deal with. And she's standing right behind you."

Alexander did not look back at all. "I'm aware of it. But she is not my priority. Fighting you… a warrior in the new world… is all I care about. Now… you and your golden friend… face me… Show me your fighting spirit…"

Wish a shrug and a defeated, "I guess I have no other choice," he and Preciosa ran after the former king with their fists clenched. Their opponent simply stood open, not even bothering to raise his defenses. Of course, Joaquín knew better than to underestimate him because of this. When he threw the first punch, it was met with a hand to catch it and a second to punch back. Anticipating this, his free hand slipped past and aimed for his stomach.

What he hadn't expected was for him to unleash a swift headbutt to knock him onto his feet. Disoriented, Joaquín tried to stand up, but was met with a fist to the chest and all the air leaving his lungs. And then came the swift blows to his chest and face before a hard hook sent him crumpling to the ground. Alexander simply stood above him, waiting for him to stand. "If this is all you have to offer me, warrior," he said with a hint of disappointment, "then I will kill you right here and now."

It took a moment, but he stood back up. And then another fist flew at him. Preciosa grabbed it and used his free fist to jab at his head like it was a punching bag. " _TOMA_ ," he shouted sharply as he released the king's fist and delivered a hook of his own to make him stumble backwards. Seeing his opening, his Stand flew at him and roared his usual " _¡TOMATOMATOMA!_ " as his fists pummeled away at the defenseless Alexander. With one last blow, he was knocked onto his back.

The two then slowly approached him as he lifted himself to a sitting position. His helmet had been knocked off, and his forehead was bleeding. His mismatched eyes locked with him, now filled with a look he had often seen in himself: respect. "Incredible," he murmured. "In just a few short blows… I felt your fighting spirit… It burns brighter than any star in the sky…You… are fighting for more than just yourself… aren't you..?"

"I… Yes. But how did you know..?"

The man smiled. "Joaquín… I have fought many a battle.. conquered many a kingdom… and named many a city in my honor… But all throughout, I never once believed in only myself… My battles… were for the benefit of my people… I cared not if I ever fell… I only wanted my empire to lead itself into a better future… And… though I am merely the spirit of Alexander the Great… I feel great pride in my actions… And for having fought someone with such strength as you…"

"Even if it was only briefly," he added with a smile of his own.

"Yes… There is no reason to continue fighting… Just that moment was enough… To me… you have already proven… that you will fight for a better future… like I had in life…"

"WHAT?!" Martika looked at the ancient warrior as if he had lost his mind. "But you are supposed to be unbeatable! You were supposed to grind their hearts under your heel! And yet you admit defeat?! Stand back to your feet and kill them!"

Alexander simply looked over his shoulder and smiled, whispering, "Never." Infuriated, Martika opened her book to his page and swiped her hand over it. Both he and his army turned to dust and returned to the book, which she slammed hard. Her cold eyes now burned in annoyance.

"I should have known," she lamented. "When Dio told me that I would have very little control over these warriors, I thought he was lying… I wanted to have a legion of legendary warriors to bow to my every command! This Stand… It's useless!"

"You said the Stand's in there," asked Joaquín, pointing to her book. "How's that even possible?"

"This book isn't mine. It belonged to the wife of a master blacksmith. A historian with interests in the legends surrounding her people's champions, she crafted this very book and bound her own Stand to it. Likewise, her husband did the same with his Stand into what he claimed was the perfect blade. This was five hundred years ago, and they were nearly forgotten by history. That was, until an expedition unearthed them and placed them in the Museum of Cairo… Just to gather dust…

"And then I met Dio. Before then, I was simply a historian, just like the blacksmith's wife. And with the same interests, no less. When he looked into my heart, he knew I was the type of person who wanted control. I may not have gotten it from my peers, but I received it when he handed me both the book and sword. The Goddess Nephthys and Divine Anubis… I could not control the sword, so I merely planted it for someone worthy to find. The book was enough for me."

 _The sword… Wait a minute… The same sword Jean Pierre found..? Does that mean..?_

"So the sword Polnareff found," started Joseph with trepidation, "actually has a Stand inside it? It wasn't just the swordsman?"

"That's just what I said," she answered listlessly. "Speaking of which, I'm certain that by now, he has pulled out the cursed blade and is fighting your companions as we speak. He's probably using it in tandem with his Silver Chariot" Her lips curled into a seductive smile. "Now wouldn't it be something… if their names appear in my book as we fight..? How lovely would be to see them in there..? I wonder if their Stands can be manifested from within…"

"You're sick," growled Joaquín.

"And if I am? This Stand, despite its flaws, is a gift. And I'm making use of it by bringing legends to life. By the end of today, I will have your names in this book. I will learn your fighting history. And if I can't control you, then Dio most certainly will."

"Over our dead bodies," said Joseph, his vines writhing around his arm.

Martika smiled and whispered, "I'm counting on it," before opening the book and landing on another page. She then blew the dust off it, two tornadoes forming between them. The duo prepared their Stands once again to take on whoever this woman had summoned. After taking on both Old Cui and Alexander the Great, Joaquín felt that whoever she had in store for them would be an absolute cakewalk.

But then the dust settled, and who they saw made him feel otherwise.

Two muscular men towered over them, each wearing large earrings and sporting matching facial markings. One wore a type of _keffiyeh_ with a golden band and a large horn at the top, along with Indian-styled underwear and a short top with small golden daggers piercing through his pectorals to hold it up. The other had pieces of leather stitched onto his chest and shoulders. A ruby-adorned hat rested atop a small cloud of white hair. They both looked down at Joseph with mild amusement.

"Jojo," exclaimed stitched man in a husky, excited voice. 'I never thought I'd get to fight you again!"

"Indeed," said the blade-pierced man in a calm baritone. "You have grown older since we last clashed."

Joseph's eye twitched, his Stand twitching anxiously. "I never thought I'd be hearing that name again from you… Or that I would be fighting either of you…"

" _Abuelito_ ," breathed a shocked Joaquín. "W-Who are… These can't be…"

"They are," Joseph confirmed grimly. "These two are Esidisi and Whamuh… The Pillar Men…"


	30. Toy Soldiers

Okay, so I've been thinking. After all this is over, I wanna go back in my story one more time, fix it up a bit more, and add a few more things. Especially in the earlier chapters. No notes in the beginning or end save for the Stand parameters and the story introduction. A definitive edition of Lost Heritage. Till then, I'll continue to writing as things are now. Hope you're all enjoying.

* * *

Ch. 30  
Toy Soldiers

JANUARY 5TH, 1989  
10:22  
EDFU, EGYPT

Santana.

Esidisi.

Whamuh.

Kahz.

Some five thousand years ago, these four mysterious men appeared in history. Nobody knew what they were, where they came from, or when they came into being. What was known was that they were wicked, immortal beings who wielded unholy powers and could not thrive in the sunlight. They had only one goal in mind: to conquer their one weakness and surpass their own power to become the "Ultimate Thing", the pinnacle of evolution.

Kahz, the leader, created an intricate mask out of stone, which would push the brain to draw out its dark latent potential. On humans, it turned them into vampires, whom they indiscriminately transformed to fuel their hunger. But they could not use it upon themselves. Due to their immortal bodies, they needed a power source to amplify the mask's and push them further than what they were. And that source would come from a rarely naturally-occurring gemstone: the Red Stone of Aja.

One of these stones, perfect and powerful enough to use, the Super Aja, belonged to the Roman Empire. They coveted this jewel and travelled to Europe to steal it. However, warriors practiced in the art of _Sendou_ stood in their way, determined to guard it with their lives. And that was exactly what the protection of the stone cost, the near-extinction of _Sendou_. But this did not deter these men. Confident that they will one day attain it, they entered a deep slumber against a giant stone column.

History would come to call them the Pillar Men.

Come 1938, and the Pillar Men awakened from their two-thousand year slumber. Their goal to steal the Super Aja remained unchanged. All that stood in their way now were Joseph Joestar, his master Lisa Lisa, and his companion Caesar Zeppeli. They fought long and hard, and while Caesar was killed and Kahz became the Ultimate Thing, they came out victorious in the end. Santana had been reduced to stone, Esidisi and Whamuh were vanquished, and Kahz was launched deep into space.

But now, some fifty years later, the ghosts of Joseph's bloody past had returned. He, along with his grandson, once again stood face to face with the spirits of Whamuh and Esidisi. And while Joaquín was certain that he felt the same mounting tension as he did, he couldn't begin to think how their presence was affecting Joseph. Was he panicking behind that serious expression? Was his blood boiling? He just couldn't tell.

"You've certainly grown older, Jojo," teased the stitched man, who Joaquín assumed was Esidisi given how he had been described to him before. "I can see that after all this time, you've dawdled on your _hamon_ training. How pitiful."

"I had no need for it anymore," argued Joseph. "I had hoped that through your deaths, the world would be safer for me and my family to live in. But clearly that's not the case now. A new evil has arisen. And you two… You stand in our way."

"I can't believe that bitch had the audacity to bring you two back," growled Joaquín. "You both already lost once. You seriously wanna fight again?"

"We were born warriors, boy," answered Whamuh. "Our goal in life, aside from achieving perfection, was to fight. We may have died, but our fighting spirit still burns brighter than the sun itself. Which reminds me…" He looked up into the open ceiling of the courtyard, beholding the morning sky and the sun peeking over the temple. He flashed an unnaturally warm smile. "The sun… We can stand in it's light… Is this what it would have felt like had we became the Ultimate Thing?"

"Perhaps," mused Esidisi as he started to walk a circle around the duo, taking in their appearances. "But what I'm interested in is neither the sun or our revival… But the energy they are exuding… It isn't _hamon_ , but something… similar… Coming from both those vines and that golden man…"

Joaquín and Preciosa both shared a glance before turning to the prowling Esidisi. "Yeah. That would be our Stands. The other spirits we fought could see them."

He eyed the two more curiously. "Stands… Odd… I've never seen anything like this before in all my life… Both of you… Show me what these Stands can do…"

"With pleasure," growled Joaquín. But before he could even think about running at the immortal man, Joseph spoke up.

"I'm not going to fight." Everyone, including Martika, looked at him in bewilderment. _It's not like_ Abuelito _to simply back out of a fight_ , thought his grandson. _What's going on? Did he get hurt from earlier?_

"Whatever for, Jojo," asked Esidisi with mild amusement. "You never wanted not to battle. Even when you were escaping Whamuh bleeding and nearly broken, your attack continued on."

"It has nothing to do with my advancing age. Or any injuries. As much as I want to duke it out once more with you both, I don't feel like this is my battle anymore. I've already defeated you once. To do it again, well… There's no fun in it. I'd understand if it were a stalemate, like with Kahz. But beating you again would give me no satisfaction."

Martika looked offended to hear this, her eyes wide and mouth baring teeth.. "B-But this is your big chance,' she insisted. "A rematch against immortal giants to settle the score! I wanted to see you valiantly fight your past, only to lose in disgrace!"

"That's another thing, girl." He pointed at her and smiled beneath his beard. "I don't want to give _you_ the satisfaction of seeing it."

"A bold decision, Jojo," grunted Whamuh, who sat down cross-legged beside the fuming Martika. "If you choose not to face us, then we shall respect your decision. Of course, this means that the boy will fight in your stead?"

"Of course." Joseph rested a hand on his grandson's shoulder with pride. "This is one of my grandsons, Joaquín. Before your summoner came and rudely interrupted us, I was helping him train his _hamon_. When you announced your desire to fight, I knew _he_ had to be the one to take you on. It'll be the perfect training for him. On top of that, I want to see how he beats you."

"Are you sure about this, Abuelito," asked Joaquín. He trusted his grandfather's intuition, despite not trusting his questionable transportation choices. But he couldn't help but worry when it came to confronting the Pillar Men. While confident in his victory, he worried more about how intact he could escape this encounter.

Sensing his unease, his grandfather smiled at him and said, "Of course. I wouldn't have you fighting alone if I didn't feel you could handle it. Besides," he then whispered, "if there's an opening, I might just sneak in a little surprise for them." His voice returned to its normal volume. "Just think of this as a test. One I know you'll ace with flying colors."

If there was any other person who could make Joaquín feel confident besides Della, it was his grandfather. He was right. Joaquín _could_ take on the Pillar Men and win just like his grandfather. He had to. With a smile and thanks, he turned his attention back to Esidisi, who continued to prowl around the two.

"Jojo's grandson," he said with curiosity. "Yes… I can see him in you, alright… That fire in your eyes, the messy hair… And that confident, yet foolish smile… I will enjoy fighting the next generation. Now, strike me, boy. I'll allow you a chance to show me what you can do."

"You might regret those words," he stated before both he and Preciosa ran straight for Esididi. There was no defense from his opponent, prepared to take whatever Joaquín had to throw at him. He was planning something, he could feel it. Prepared to counter him, he clenched his fist and immediately punched this man's chest. And then, there was nothing. Esidisi didn't react. But the fist that would have slammed directly into him simply phased into him.

And Joaquín realized _exactly_ why he wanted him to attack first.

 _This is one of their abilities_ , he remembered from his grandfather's stories. _They can absorb organic matter… That's what he had planned… But… If I focus my_ hamon _, then I won't end up getting mutilated by them at all!_

With his body glowing with _hamon_ and a roar escaping his throat, he swiftly dragged his arm out of the warrior. He had ended up creating a large bloody hole within his chest. While Esidisi staggered back, the wound didn't seem to bother him too much. In fact, seeing it made him chuckle. "The hell's so funny," barked Joaquín. "You wanted me to attack and that's exactly what I did! Don't tell me you're gonna say my _hamon_ didn't sting you!"

"Don't worry, it does sting." He smiled and flexed his muscular arms. Several blood vessels and arteries hung from his open wound. "What amuses me is how strong your _hamon_ is compared to Jojo's. I was just simply taken back by surprise. You may actually give me a better fight than he could back then."

The comment made Joseph scoff. "Big talk coming from a man who took defeat so sorely as he did."

"That was years ago. But I know better now." He hadn't turned to look at the elder of his two prey. This man was solely focused on Joaquín. "Tell me, who was it who taught you? It wasn't Jojo, was it?"

He shook his head. "Nope. Did it all on my own since I was a kid. And I've been constantly improving it every chance I get. Of course, my _abuelito_ gives me a few pointers here and there. Now? Well…" He took a stance and focused his breathing. His body shivered with the power flowing through him, which exuded a brighter light than it had earlier in his battle with Martika. "I can _definitely_ take you down."

Esidisi made a noise of amused pride. "You're a bold one, boy! And how sharp your gaze is… But… you should know that when men like you look at me like that… they die an early death… You're young boy, yet you so fearlessly stand before a man whose power you know nothing of… Do you even know who I am? "

"Yes. You're Esidisi. The same man who _Abuelito_ Joseph killed all those years ago. I know all about you, from how you tried poisoning him to how merciless you are… I may not have fought you, but I'll send you back to hell like he did before me."

The man simply chuckled as he stretched his hands out before him. "I have another name, boy. I am 'Esidisi of the Flame'!" His fingernails twitched before peeling back, much to Joaquín's disgust. And then, blood vessels slithered out from the exposed skin and from his chest wound. It might have been Joaquín's imagination, but he could swear he saw him steaming up.

"Watch out, Joaquín," shouted Joseph. "He's changing modes!"

"Modes," he asked confusedly.

"Yes! That's his Flame Mode! He's able to boil his blood up to 600°C and use it against you!"

As if on cue, some blood began to drip from the openings of those writhing red ropes. The stone seared upon being touched by these boiling droplets. Esidisi laughed and shot them straight at Joaquín, shouting, "Monstrous Blazing King Mode!" The tubes slithered in the air towards their prey. Joaquín had no choice but to jump away and avoid them. It was almost difficult trying not to touch them. One of them spurted some of the heated blood at him, which managed to barely graze his arm.

Even through minimal contact, it still made him yelp in pain. Not wanting to get burned again, he and Preciosa jumped against one of the temple walls, clinging with their backs pressed against it. Looking down at the Pillar Man, who approached and chuckled through his small web of boiling death, he took a moment to do some quick thinking.

 _Okay… Boiling blood… How the hell am I gonna be able to counter that? Let's see… Maybe if I use some of Preciosa's oil, I could maybe capture the blood before it strikes… And in turn, maybe I could trap him… Yeah… Yeah, that'll work..._

"Are you going to spend all day up there like a frog on a tree," chided Esidisi. "Or must I burn down your perch?"

"No need to, _cabrón_ ," insulted Joaquín before jumping off. His Stand's body started to swell up with oil as he shielded himself. Just as he did this, the tubes aimed at him and directly shot searing bullets of blood directly at the two. It was as he had hoped. "NOW! _SAPO_ SAP SPATE!" And by flinging his arms apart, Preciosa's body releases all of its built-up oil. The blood was swallowed up by the globs of oil, which made them catch on fire as they landed around Esisidi.

The ones that didn't burn up were dodged, the warrior leaping and contorting his body in a way that brought the hairy freak Otis to mind. Of course, they all landed around him without much thought, just as Joaquín did. The Pillar Man simply sneered and laughed heartily. "Was that all your oil was going to do? Try to burn me with your _hamon_?"

Joaquín wagged his finger dismissively and smirked. "Not even in the slightest. Besides, I didn't even infuse it with _hamon_ at all."

"Oh? Then what was it meant for, if not that?"

"Just a little distraction for _Abuelito_ to get you with his Stand."

And just as he had expected again, Esidisi spun to look at Joseph, his blood vessels aimed at him. Of course, Joseph had no even moved since the two started fighting, simply watching them the way Martika was. His attention swiftly returned to Joaquín, sneering again. "You tried to trick me… And yet, even when my back was turned to you, you didn't take an opportunity to strike… What are you planning, boy?"

"Nothing you should know." He crossed his arms. "'All warfare is based on deception.' Surely you know that, right?"

"I do. And I have met the man who spoke that quote… Likewise, I said those exact same words to Jojo when we fought. I never fell for his tricks, and I will not fall for yours…" He tried to take a step, but he found that he couldn't lift his foot. He tried doing so with the other, but it would not leave the ground either. "W-What the..? What is this?" Esidisi growled as he tried vainly to free his feet. Joaquín, meanwhile, approached them man calmly.

"At first," he said simply.

"W-What?"

"At first. You never fell for them _at first_. In the end, even after you looked through my _abuelito_ 's tricks, you _still_ fell for one more that ultimately ended you. See, I wasn't throwing that oil just as a distraction. My _Sapo_ Sap, besides conducting _hamon_ , can trap whatever touches it like a powerful glue. My distraction was telling you it _was_ one, so you could turn around and get your feet caught in a puddle of my oil.

"What I'm trying to say, Esidisi is that… you fell for my trap!"

"You… You..!" Esidisi was too shocked and annoyed to even form words properly.

"And for your next line," he pointed straight at him, "you'll ask, 'Was this also a part of your trap," am I right?"

Quite suddenly, the thorny vines that formed Hermit Purple sprung behind Esidisi and completely ensnared him and his blood vessels. If he couldn't move before, he definitely couldn't now. Struggling in the grip of the Stand and the oil, he could only growl, "W-Was this also a part of your trap..?!"

"You're damn right it is!" His _hamon_ glowed and focused straight into his and Preciosa's fists as he ran towards him. "Everything up until now was all according to plan!"

That was a lie. He simply said it to annoy both Esidisi and Martika.

Hermit Purple let go just in time for both Stand and user to wail into Esidisi with a barrage of blazing punches. A storm of " _¡TOMATOMATOMA!_ " mingled together with the crackling of his dying foe's body. With one last punch, Esidisi crumbled to pieces and returned to the dust that recreated him. The reactions that followed were immediate. Joseph cheered. Whamuh looked mildly impressed. And Martika was livid, as expected.

Once the dust returned to her book, she growled, "You… why don't you just die already?!" She was not how Joaquín had first met her. Once cold and disturbingly seductive, she was slowly and steadily breaking. Like a child who can't get what they wanted right away.

"It'll take more than boiling blood or hundreds of spirits to stop a Trejo and a Joestar," said Joaquín, flashing his usual smile at her. "Your little relic is worthless against me."

The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting. Even though he had not laid a finger on her, getting under this woman's skin was a sign that he was winning their battle. And Martika seemed to know this as well, for she inhaled through her nose and calmed herself as best as she could. "You may think it's worthless… But in the end, it will be your demise… I still have Whamuh here to fight you. Isn't that right?

She turned to the unmoving Pillar Man, who didn't even look her in the eye. His simply rested on Joaquín's as he softly spoke in his deep voice.. "Jojo refuses to fight. Having bested me once, I will respect his wishes accordingly, as any true warrior would. His grandson, on the other hand… he is very formidable, a true warrior worthy of challenging me. That is, if he believes himself so. Do you, Joaquín?"

"I do," answered Joaquín, whose glow had not ceased and Stand had faded away.

"Then so be it..!" Whamuh slowly rose to his feet and spoke loudly. "Where Lord Esidisi failed, I shall triumph..! I, Whamuh, shall do battle with you!"

No more words were wasted. The two ran after one another and halted mere inches from one another, where they exchanged fierce, lightning-fast blows. It was like a savage and powerful dance, punches weaving and kicks flying, their attacks never landing yet never ceasing. As perfect as they fought one another, one of them was going to slip up and end up hurt by the other. And Joaquín, whose punches blazed with _hamon_ , hoped that Whamuh would be the one to leave himself open.

No sooner than he took a swipe at his face did his opportunity come. Whamuh had leaned back, leaving himself wide open from the neck down. This was his chance. With a battle cry escaping him, he brought his swiping hand back to deliver a palm strike to his chest. But rather than land it, the Pillar Man stretched himself backwards. Or rather, he disjointed his back and stretched to avoid the blow. It seemed like Esidisi wasn't the only one who could manipulate his body so freely.

But that didn't stop him from trying to get another _hamon_ -laced blow to land on him. And another. And many more. Of course, all of them were dodged by his inhuman contortion. Nothing he was doing was working. He needed to think of something to strike him down before Whamuh could attack again. But what..?

 _Maybe… Maybe I could use the Zoom Punch_ , he figured. _He hasn't seen that. But if I use it, I'll be left completely open… Unless I can hit him with just my arm… And then just wail on him… Would that work..?_

He didn't want to wait to find out. With one last swipe of him arm, Whamuh predictably bent backwards to avoid him. He then focused and only dislocated his elbow joint, stretching his upper arm so his glowing lower arm managed to slam directly into his foe's face. Whamuh reeled back, not having expected anything to land. It had worked. Now was Joaquín's chance.

All of his _hamon_ was focused solely on his arms and fists now. He would finish him with one last attack. And he knew just what to use. But he wasn't going to use that silly rhyme at all.

"Sunlight Yellow Overload," he roared, his fists flying with the same speed and strength of his own Stand, burning with light. They embedded themselves into immortal flesh, creating burning cracks against the Pillar Man's skin. When he thought he had enough, Joaquín let loose two fists directly towards his head, ready to defeat him.

However, he did not make contact. Whamuh had ducked his head the way a turtle would into its shell, avoiding the oncoming fists. Joaquín's brief opening was all Whamuh needed. He immediately thrust his arms out and contorted them, spinning them rapidly from the joints in opposing directions. Massive, howling tunnels of wind blew from his arms, which looked bigger and more imposing within them. He knew exactly what this was. Joseph had told him all about this dreaded technique.

He also knew that, being in its direct path, there was no escaping it.

"Fighting Art: Divine Sandstorm," roared Whamuh as loud as his wind.

In a split second, Preciosa emerged to shield himself. But it did little good. The wind generated by the Pillar Man was rapid, sharp, and powerful. Joaquín felt himself nearly crumpling in the vortex, his body opening with many razor-sharp cuts and his bones nearly breaking. The pain was mind numbing. He couldn't tell how badly he was being hurt or how long it was happening. But what he knew was that his grandfather was screaming in abject horror in the distance.

When the storm quelled, Joaquín landed a few feet away in a crumpled heap. He could barely move. It was as if every part of him was hit with a massive, fiery weight. Joaquín could just barely remember how his grandfather once described this technique as a 'microcosmic sandstorm". Did he have to go through this immense pain? He had to, given how even he couldn't dodge it.

"JOAQUÍN," shouted Joseph, clearer now that the wind had stopped. He ran over to his grandson and knelt down to pick up his upper body. "Oh god, are you okay?! Can you speak?!"

With a pained in his voice, he groaned, "My entire body hurts…" He slowly helped himself up, his legs shaking slightly and his body aching fiercely. "But… yeah… I should be good now…"

"Joaquín, you're nearly dead! Look at what that bastard did to you!" He didn't need to look. He knew his body was cut and bleeding, his hair a bigger mess than it was normally, and his shirt and jeans had been torn pretty badly. "We have to withdraw _now_! You can't fight him anymore!"

Joaquín chuckled and shook his head slowly. "He's a pretty good fight... One of the best guys I've ever fought… I've never had an opponent quite like him… He's… one of the best… I can see why you had a tough time against him, _Abuelito_..." Whamuh, whose entire body was also damaged and bleeding as well from the blows he had suffered, cracked an odd smile. He looked rather humbled. "Which is why… you're right…"

He then called out to him, "Hey, Whamuh! I'm… I'm done fighting you now… You win…"

"WHAT," screeched Martika, not expecting him to simply forfeit.

"Yeah, you heard me..!" He looked in her direction and smiled. "I give up… What… Were you expecting me to give some… rousing speech about how I'm not gonna give up and… keep fighting..? Normally, I would… but my whole body's in pain… and it's clear that we both did enough damage… If we keep on fighting, we're both gonna end up killing each other… That's why I'm quitting now… I'm done for the day…"

"BUT THAT'S THE POINT! THIS IS A FIGHT TO THE DEATH! YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO DIE IN THE END, WITH ME COMING OUT VICTORIOUS NO MATTER WHAT!"

"Joaquín has already admitted defeat," stated Whamuh, just as pained as his opponent and still not looking at her. "As a warrior, his decision to not continue fighting must be respected. I will not fight him. And you cannot force me to continue"

"YES I CAN!" She marched towards him, having lost all her composure. "I WANTED TO SEE HIM DIE! I WANTED HIS NAME IN NEPHTHYS TO SHOW DIO THAT I DID WHAT NONE OF THOSE OTHER IDIOTS COULD DO: KILL JOAQUÍN TREJO! YOU WILL NOT DENY ME THAT, YOU ASSHOLE! I HAVE THE BOOK! I CAN CONTROL YOU! AND YOU WILL LISTEN TO-"

And then, it happened, too quick for her to react. She had reached Whamuh, a foot or so behind him. And his eyes widened in shock. Without any warning, he swiftly kicked behind him like a bucking horse, his foot tearing through the ancient book and slamming straight into Martika's face. She was sent flying back into one of the walls, knocking her unconscious. Her book lay in two where she had dropped it. It was all so quick. Joaquín felt as it h had imagined it.

"W-What the fuck was that," he muttered in shock.

"Oh!" It was Joseph's turn to go wide-eyed, this time in recognition. "Of course! I just remembered! Whamuh hates it when someone steps in his shadow! It looks like that woman was right about the spirits keeping their quirks!"

"I can't believe something like that ended it… I was honestly trying to rile her up and sneak… a blow in to beat her… 'If your opponent is temperamental, seek to irritate him.' I take it you thought the same, right..?"

"Of course. Glad to see we thought of the same thing." He and his grandson looked back at Whamuh. Without the book to sustain him, his body began to crumble to dust. But even as he faded, he was smiling proudly, which Joseph returned. "Fifty years, and you're still one tricky son of a bitch… If it had been a rematch between us, I would have already died."

"Again, a wise choice to not face me," acknowledged Whamuh. "You were always an intelligent warrior. Even now, in your old age, you still show just how sharp you can be. As does your grandson." He looked down at Joaquín now. "You knew exactly when to catch me off guard, as well as when to accept defeat. I praise you, Joaquín… Not many can contend with Whamuh the way you have."

"Hey, what can I say," he said with a smile. "I am my _abuelito_ 's grandson."

"That you are…" He was almost gone now. "Do not stop fighting, Joaquín… And Jojo… Whatever evil you seek to vanquish… I wish you both luck… May we meet again in another life… Farewell… Jojo… and… Jojo…" And then, the dust blew away, settling lazily on the remnants of the book he appeared from. The spirit of Whamuh was gone.

Joaquín approached the book and lifted up one half of it. Upon the exposed page were many small names, dates of birth and death beside them and beneath were how they died. Whamuh's entry showed he had lived from around 10,000 BC to 1939, and he was killed in a chariot race by Joseph Joestar. And turning the page back, he saw entry that tugged at his heart. A name he wished he could summon for his grandfather, were the book still whole.

 _Caesar Anthonio Zeppeli (1918-1939)  
_ _Crushed by a piece of stone ceiling after facing Whamuh._

He wanted to bring him back, even if he was a spirit. His grandfather undoubtedly would have wanted to make amends with his former friend. Despite knowing he would garner no results, he blew against the page of the book. A small cloud of dust flew off the page, but it did not swirl into the man who lost his life many years ago. _Damn… It was worth a try, anyway…_

"I can't believe that a Stand was imbued into that book," said Joseph in wonder. "I've never heard of anything like that…"

"Neither have I," muttered Joaquín, who set the book down. "Speaking of which… we have another battle to head off to… The Divine Anubis… Joutarou and Jean Pierre are fighting it right now… We gotta help them…"

As he started to leave, Joseph called out in worry. "Wait, Joaquín! You can't go like this, look at you!"

To which his grandson turned back to him, smirked and asked, "Has a bit of blood loss… and potentially broken bones… stopped you, Abuelito..?" He looked gravely at him before shaking his head, knowing it never did. "Of course not… If I was just going up against Whamuh… and not Martika… I wouldn't have given up… I would have kept fighting… Us Joestars are like that, right..?"

"Y-Yes… Just… please be careful… I'll go find the others."

He nodded and ran off as best as his bruised and breaking body would allow him. Everything was on fire as he moved, but he ignored the pain. The safety of his brother and friends were more important. He ran into the streets, keeping his eyes and ears open for anything that would suggest a fight was going on. And it didn't take too long, for in the distance, he heard an all to familiar cry.

" _ORAORAORA!_ "

 _Joutarou..!_

It had come from the next street over. He turned down one road and arrived onto the next, suddenly realizing where he had arrived. It was the same street where Jean Pierre had been getting a shave. The barber shop had its window broken. A fire hydrant had broken, and a tree lay cut apart. A nearby garage door had been slammed into by an unconscious uniformed man. Another man was laying prone on the street. Fighting one another right in the middle was Joutarou, Jean Pierre and their Stands.

And in Silver Chariot's free hand was the now broken blade of Anubis.

Both fists and blades were slamming into one another, trying to get an opening on one another to subdue them. But they were both fast, almost impossible to see in any other Stand user's eyes. And it might have been him, but he could have sworn Silver Chariot was swinging faster than normal.

"You idiot," hissed Jean Pierre under the influence of Anubis. "Your damn ' _ora ora_ ' can't keep up with two Stand master's dual-wielding fencing!" He then prepared to strike above Star Platinum, who instinctively blocked with both fists. He had left himself wide open, which the enemy took advantage of by driving the broken blade straight through his lower stomach. And subsequently, into Joutarou's.

"GOTCHA!"

"NO," screamed Joaquín before running up to the two. Jean Pierre's dead and cold eyes turned to him and smiled, which made him stop in hiss tracks. Joutarou meanwhile was clearly trying not to panic.

Not another step," he said giddily. "Your brother is finished! I, the Divine Anubis, have defeated Joutarou!" From behind Jean Pierre appeared the the ghostly visage of a topless man with a black jackal's head and a golden headdress. "I've won!"

"Y-You bastard," growled Joaquín wanting nothing more than to destroy the sword to pieces. All his pain was replaced with adrenaline and fury. His brother was facing death, literally, and there was nothing he could do. Not a single opening to save him could be seen. "I'm gonna make you pay for this…"

"I'd like to see you try…" He turned to Joutarou, who used Star Platinum to gingerly grip the sword and keep it from sinking into him further. The sight must have been pitiful, for he chuckled darkly. "You can neither pull it out or stop it. This bewitched sword… has already memorized the strength o your Star Platinum… And it will push the rest of itself into you!"

Try as he might, he couldn't stop the blade from sinking a bit further. With a cough of blood, he groaned, " _You're p-pushing it in..?_ "

"Yes, that's right! It's going in! Lord Dio will rejoice!"

" _S-Stop…_ " He looked the dog-headed Stand directly and spoke with his usual stoic demeanor, albeit pained. " _I-If you don't stop pushing in… Then it'd be murder…_ "

"Stop?! I'll tear out and scatter your internal organs!" But just as he was about to end Joutarou, Star Platinum swiftly punched a piece of the blade. While a fragment was still in him, he was no longer at risk of being disemboweled. The Stand then began to break apart the rest of the sword into pieces, making Anubis panic and scream "W-What?! Y-You're breaking me! I'm shoved in you and yet you're steadily breaking me! I-I have to pull out! Please, stop!"

But his plead for mercy was met with a roar of " _ORAORAORA!_ " and a barrage of sword-breaking punches. All that remained once Star Platinum finished was the handle of the sword. Both Anubis and Jean Pierre looked scared as the purple Stand brought a hand to his ear.

" _Now then_ ," said Joutarou, " _what was that you said… about tearing my insides out..?_ " With the sword being knocked out of Silver Chariot's hand, Star Platinum crushed the handle into pieces. The spirit of Anubis exploded into thin air. With his defeat, his hold on Jean Pierre was relinquished, knocking him unconscious. " _That's exactly right… Trying to push that in me… led to murder… It was easier to aim for it… when the sword stopped..._ "

He couldn't believe it. The fight was over before he could even interfere. Joaquín had to hand it to his brother for his cool thinking in the face of a bloody death. Tentatively, he asked his brother, " _You… didn't plan for this, did you..?_ "

" _Sure_ ," said his brother with a hint of sarcasm. " _I always plan ahead… That's how I beat him…_ "

He chuckled at his stoic parallel to what he himself told Esidisi. It was funny how they both can think alike at times, which made him like his brother all the better. His humor was quickly erased by mild panic when he saw Joutarou fall to his knee. The blade fragment had slipped out from his stomach, which he held onto shakily. " _J-Joutarou..!_ " He knelt beside him. " _We gotta head to a hospital..! You're not okay..!_ "

" _N-Neither are you… You look like shit…_ "

" _I_ feel _like shit_ ," he admitted, the pain slowly returning. " _But never mind me..! You need medical attention the most..!_ "

" _You're telling me…_ " Jotarou was speaking in between panting now. " _That Stand… was much stronger… I had to muster up… my whole strength… into that last barrage… I'm just glad I beat it… before he could learn what I did… T-This is the first time… I've ever felt so… exhausted… Where's… Where's_ jijii _..?_ "

" _Probably finding Della and Mohamed… We beat another Stand user… She had a book that could summon warrior spirits… It was like the sword… A Stand was imbued into it…_ "

" _How the hell-_ "

" _I don't know_ ," Joaquín interrupted, painfully helping his brother back to his feet. He then slung Joutarou's arm over his shoulder, holding him so that he doesn't fall. " _But we'll get to a hospital… Come… Come…_ " The pain and fatigue was starting to get to him too. He could feel the pain pulsing and burning all over his body. Now it was his turn to take a knee, unable to walk. " _M-Maldita sea madre_ … I-I can't move… S-Shit… This is bad…"

Just then, a groan came from Jean Pierre. The Frenchman held his head, perhaps aching from being controlled by the evil Stand. "Ooh… What happened to me," he moaned, right before his eyes widened and he immediately sat up. "T-That's right! The sword manipulated me!"

" _Yeah, but it's over now_ ," groaned Joutarou, just as weak as his older brother he was leaning on. " _Listen, Polnareff, go find_ jijii _… We're too tired to walk…_ "

Joaquín nodded in agreement. Without the adrenaline and rage to fuel him, he could barely move at all. Some parts of his body were too painful for him to even describe. He was certain that the Divine Sandstorm had broken a handful of his bones, something nobody else had managed to do. _I don't know how easily a Stand's regenerating properties can fix them_ , he lamented. _I'm probably gonna have to stay a while in a hospital… Fuck… We really didn't need this…_

As he watched Jean Pierre start to walk off, he heard something from behind. It was a boy, who was curious about something shiny. Nothing out of the ordinary. But then, he heard the boy growl in a rather murderous tone. "I learned it…"

Joutarou heard it too. Slowly looking behind them, they could see a young boy with a turban and a ragged cloak over his shoulders with a deadly expression on his face. He was holding a piece of metal in his hands, sharp and tipped like a blade. It was the very tip of the sword, the piece undoubtedly broken in the scuffle before Joaquín arrived. The visage of Anubis appeared over the kid, his yellow eyes glowed vengefully as he continued to speak.

"I, the Divine Anubis, was once the Stand of a swordsmith who crafted this blade five hundred years ago… Only I remain alive… I am a Stand without a master… It was Lord Dio who took me from the darkness of the museum's warehouse… And… It is because of the unholy strength of Lord Dio's Stand that I swore allegiance to him… His Stand… The World…"

This was the first time he had heard anyone explicitly name Dio's Stand. _I was right… It_ is _The World… But… his power…_

"Joestars… you… will…" The boy lifted the blade over his head, as if ready to throw it. "… absolutely die..! I know your strength..! I know your fastest speed..! You both have the same kind of Stands… Neither Star Platinum or that Preciosa can stop me… NOW GO TO HELL!"

Under normal circumstances, Joaquín would have been worried. Neither he and Joutarou could dodge him, having exhausted all their energy in battle. And using their Stands would have been risky. But in this particular moment, he wasn't. Their enemy would end up missing. The reason was actually quite humorous. The boy had apparently dropped a lollipop right at his feet. And running straight after him, completely out of nowhere, was the ever-mischievous and pilfering Iggy.

As soon as the blade was about to be thrown, the Boston terrier snatched up the lollipop and tripped the boy. He let go, and the blade spun directly over their heads and straight towards the Nile. Jean Pierre barely noticed it when he looked back and saw Iggy.

"Oh, there you are," he said, his nose crinkling when he noticed the lollipop. "Ugh! What is that? Candy? You didn't just pick it off the ground, did you? Disgusting little mutt…"

"Well, that was climactic," muttered Joaquín sarcastically. He watched as the blade phased through a wall, flew towards a ship passing along the river, and lodged itself into the rump of a cow. It certainly didn't like having been stabbed, because it started going wild and thrashing all over the place. And in its crazed state, it tipped the ship over and fell out, the blade falling in with it.

"Hey, look," Jean Pierre pointed out to the chaos in the distance. "That cow's gone mad!"

" _Yare yare_ ," moaned Joutarou in annoyance. " _Who cares about that cow… Just get the others… so we can be treated…_ "

"Joutarou's right," agreed Joaquín tiredly. He started to feel dizzy now. "Hurry up and… and find… Oh… fuck…"

The pain and blood-loss finally caught up to him. What little strength he had left escaped him, making him keel over in exhaustion. He heard Joutarou and Jean Pierre cry out his name in fear. As unconsciousness took hold of him, Joaquín could only think about what an incredible fight he had today.

 _I definitely wanna do something like this again…_

 _After I recover, of course…_

~MARTIKA: RETIRED~

~GODDESS NEPHTHYS (c. 1489-1989): RIP~

~DIVINE ANUBIS: RETIRED~

* * *

STAND TIME

STAND USER: Martika (マルティカ)

STAND: Goddess Nephthys (ネフティス女神)

POWER: E, SPEED: E, RANGE: A, DURABILITY: D, PRECISION: E, POTENTIAL: E

Like it's counterpart Anubis, Nephthys is a Stand without a master imbued into an ancient book. Within its pages are the names of past warriors, their birth and death dates, and the cause of their death. So long as they have been in one fight, once someone dies, their name is automatically written into it. The book continuously grows with each name added. The fighting spirit of these warriors can be summoned to do battle for the wielder of the book by blowing upon their name. Each one inherits their namesake's personality, strengths, weaknesses, and their own quirks. While they are driven to fight, they are not under control of the summoner. They can refuse to fight under certain circumstances, such as their opponent not wishing to fight or if they feel they have been bested. Taking enough damage returns them to dust and back to the book. There is no limit to how many warriors can be summoned. Only by destroying the book can it be defeated and be rendered unusable.

I loved bringing back the Pillar Men for this fight. And all the callbacks. Oh, and if anyone asks, the reason I didn't add Kahz was because he he is still alive out there in space. Technically, he's already brain-dead at this point, but bringing back only his mind just wouldn't make sense to bring him back. I was also debating on how to end the battle. No matter what, Whamuh was gonna kick the shit out of Martika, but what would happen to the book was another story. I would have left in intact, and the Joestar group using it to bring back several spirits to talk to, but... I went against it. It felt like it would have been too much. Anyway, look forward to the next installment. I'm probably gonna make it a bit of a breather chapter.


	31. Hungry Eyes

Remember how I was probably gonna make this a breather chapter? I changed my mind. I couldn't do it, no matter how much I tried. I needed the action. And I'm sure you guys want it, too. So I had to go back, rewrite a bit, and scrap my original idea completely. And for the better. While I'm not too fond of this chapter, it's a lot better than before. I hope you guys enjoy, and sorry for taking so long on this one.

* * *

Ch. 31  
Hungry Eyes

JANUARY 9TH, 1989  
17:01  
EDFU, EGYPT

Back when she was little, Della Brown had fractured her finger in an accident. Her adoptive father accidentally closed a door on her hand, to which he profusely apologized for as he drove her to the hospital. It was a short visit, but a rather impressionable one for her. The environment was clean and welcoming, and doctors who took care of her were kind and gentle mending her finger. She wasn't eager for another visit, but she certainly held hospitals with high regards.

Which was why when her friends were admitted to a hospital a few days ago, she was certain they would receive the best of care.

As per the norm of their journey, Jojo, Joutarou, their grandfather, and Jean Pierre ended up in a battle against two different Stands. Both were unique in that they had no true user, and resided within an ancient sword and a book. Dio stole them from a museum and gave them to some disturbed historian, who planted the sword to be found by one of them. She then followed Jojo and Joseph to a temple and used the book to summon dead warriors to fight them.

Naturally, these stolen relics were destroyed. But with their victory came extensive injuries. Joutarou needed surgery on his stomach and Jojo had several broken bones and major blood loss. He had fought two of the dreaded Pillar Men, the same ones who Joseph told stories about (and whom one had led to her grandfather's death). She was amazed that he survived the encounter, but worried about the amount of bones broken in the process.

"It's only fourteen bones," she remembered Jojo nonchalantly saying once he was awake. The blood loss had knocked him unconscious, and a transfusion was the first thing he received upon arrival. "I'll be fine. It might take a few days, but I'll be okay."

With his rate of his and Joutarou's recovery, it would take them six days before they could walk out. It felt too long, but she was reassured by him that they would make up the time. Mohamed said they could all take a train from Luxor straight to Cairo, which would take less than a day to reach. Of course, their safety wouldn't be guaranteed. It never was, given what kind of journey they were on. Until then, they had to wait for the brothers to recover.

Today, Della and the others were visiting Jojo and Joutarou. She had propped a chair beside him, Iggy resting on her lap, while Jean Pierre, Mohamed and Joseph sat between the two beds. They were all spending the day as they usually would outside a hospital, talking away idly and enjoying one anothers' company.

"You know, this is the first time I've been admitted to a hospital," admitted Jojo, whose arms were in casts and chest was bandaged from the battle. "I've gotten into so many fights and took care of my own wounds, but I've never had to go in for shit like this."

"You mean to tell me you've never had your bones broken before," asked a bewildered Della.

"I did once, but I managed to heal it up with my _hamon_. How do you think I figured I could do that?"

Joutarou chuckled quietly in the other bed. For once, he had his _gakuran_ removed, and his stomach was bandaged up. But he still insisted on wearing his cap. " _I've been in the hospital before, too_ ," he said with a small smile. " _Dislocated my arm because of some punk messing with some students. Course, he got it worse. He was nearly unrecognizable._ "

" _Please tell me you didn't go to jail for that_ ," Della said with slight exasperation.

" _No. I was defending myself. If anything, I just got suspended. The bastard got expelled._ "

" _That's my brother_ ," said Jojo proudly. " _Taking no bullshit from bullies. I used to do that, too, suspension included._ " He turned to his grandfather and asked, "What about you, _Abuelito_? Any severe injuries that landed you in a place like this?"

Joseph shook his head before answering, "Nope. However, I did have to recover for two weeks from the injuries I sustained fighting Kahz. A slow, boring process…" He then chuckled and took his fedora off. "No, I can't say it boring. I got to marry Suzie around that time. And I got my prosthetic hand. German-engineered. The Speedwagon Foundation has the schematics to make them, albeit improved."

"Mohamed, you?" The fortuneteller shook his head. "Jean Pierre, you had any injuries growing up?"

The Frenchman blew a raspberry and waved his hand dismissively. "Nothing a first-aid kit couldn't fix. I've always been careful not to get any broken bones, even when I trained my Stand. But I almost got my legs crushed by a rock during one training session. Silver Chariot pulled me away just in time. A second later and I probably would have ended up in a wheelchair."

"Hey, if that happened, you could have adopted your Stand's name. You'd be a literal Silver Chariot!"

It was a crummy joke, but everyone laughed at it. Even Joutarou and Jean Pierre were amused. Moments like these were what Della loved the most. She would always pray before the night was over that they could share more once Dio was gone for good.

When the laughter had died down, Jojo reached over for Iggy, who Della immediately gave to. "Yeah. It was a pretty crazy fight. Stands imbued into artifacts… They must be pretty rare, right Mohamed?"

"The ones you described to me are extremely rare," said Mohamed with his usua calmness. "These types of Stands are those with strong wills that can allow them to persist even through their user's death. Some, like Anubis and Nephthys, can be transfered into object upon the time of death. I have only ever heard stories of these Stands, but have never encountered them."

"You boys were lucky to have survived," said Della greatfully as she scratched behind Iggy's ears. "I just wish I could have met that girl. The way she acted sounded… gross…"

"It really was," said Jojo with a shiver. "She was just straight-up uncomfortable. But she's out for the count and Standless. She's not gonna be a problem anymore. Speaking of which, we've been doing great so far. Five out of those nine gods have already been taken out. Dio's getting sloppy. But…"

 _There's that dreaded "but"_ she thought, knowing where that was going. When the battles had been relayed to Mohamed, he made a rather unnerving revelation. Three of the Stands they encountered, Thoth, Knum and Anubis, were _not_ a part the Ennead, which the Nine Glorious Gods of Egypt were based on. According to him, there was Geb, Nut, Nephthys, Shu, Isis, Tefnut, Atum, Osiris and Seth. Which more than likely meant that Dio had hired more than just nine Stands to go after them.

"He _did_ hire Stand users who aren't based on the Egyptian Ennead…" He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, wincing from the pain of moving his arm. "We know so little about these guys. Just possible names. If we had an idea of how many there truly were and what they could do, we might stand a chance…"

"The names of their Stands should be a hint to their powers," added Mohamed calmly. "Both Anubis and Nephthys are deities of death. The Stands named after them persisted after death, one even resurrecting the dead in a matter of speaking."

"But then there was Geb," Della pointed out. "That one was named after the god of earth, but it's water-based."

"Correct."

"Either way, we'll have no problem with them. So... does anyone have any plans after Dio? I mean, with everything that's happened, do we go back to our normal lives?"

"Certainly. I plan to continue my fortunetelling business while keeping the peace here in Cairo. We must bear in mind that cutting the weed will not stop it from growing. Evil will continue to persist in this world long after another has been eradicated. There will come a time when someone with a far more powerful Stand than The World will arise. And when it arrives, I will burn it asunder with my Magician's Red."

Della and the others agreed wholeheartedly. And like Mohamed, she would be prepared for any evil after Dio. Of course, she prayed that it wouldn't come sooner than it should. In the meantime, everyone's lives would return to normal. Joutarou (and Noriaki for certain) would return to school, Joseph would continue running his business, and Jean Pierre would resume his search for the Stand/drug surge in Europe. And as for Iggy…

"I say we let him go back to New York," said Jojo, glaring playfully at his grandfather. "As much as I would love to care for him, he's always been a loner. It just seems right. Course, we could keep tabs on him to keep him out of too much trouble."

Which brought her to what she would be doing and Jojo would be doing. Admittedly, Della wanted to kick-off her writing career. She had two books just waiting to be written. After all she had been through, she knew exactly how to write her stories. Not to mention that she had ideas for another book, though she would have to wait and see how everything ends before she even begins it.

"I first wanna go back to New York," Jojo started, "get my stuff, and then move. I… don't wanna stay at that apartment anymore. Where I'll go, who knows. Maybe Japan. Maybe somewhere else in Queens. I mean, I know I got Mom's place, but… now that I think about it, I'm a grown man. I should at least have my own place to live in. After that, I wanna do some travelling." His hand found Della's and squeezed it gently. "And I'd love to do it with you"

"Aw, Jojo," she said, touched by his words and his growing smile. "You really mean that?"

"Of course. You, me, and Anne. I did promise her I'd take her. We'd go to Italy first." Her heart soared. _He knows that's where I'd love to go_. "And maybe… Just maybe… I wanna do something about my _hamon_."

"What do you mean," asked Joseph. "Do you want to train yourself further?"

"Yeah. I mean… The more I learn about _hamon_ , the more interesting it seems. The history, its applications in martial arts… It's incredible. And… I don't wanna just master it completely… I… I actually wanna bring _Sendou_ back into today's society. Make it recognized as an actual martial arts and not just this exclusive power to fight the undead.

"So…" Joseph smiled. "You want to teach _Sendou_?"

Jojo nodded, smiling wider than before. "I've always wanted to teach. I figured that I would one day teach others how to box and defend themselves. Part of why I used to fight in New York was to inspire others. And it worked. I've had people come to me, even former opponents, wanting to learn how I fight. And a lot of them asked me how I could use my _hamon_. I'm taking it as a sign that this kind of career was meant for me."

She had never given much thought to what he would have wanted to do in life. It was never a topic that came up in their conversations. Teaching an ancient martial art to the public sounded like something Jojo would do. The question was not if he would be a good teacher, she knew he would have it in him, but rather how popular would it become. Knowing her boyfriend, it wouldn't end up as just a trend.

"Well, that's one hell of a path to take," proudly said Joseph, rising to his feet. Jean Pierre and Mohamed followed suit. "I'd be proud to see you fulfill your dream. So, I'm going with the others to pick up some food. Will you all be okay?"

"We've got Della and Iggy here to protect us," said Jojo confidently. "Plus, Joutarou and I can still kind of use our Stands. We're not entirely useless."

"Hm. Never said you were. Just don't break another bone while we're gone."

"I'll make sure he doesn't," reassured Della as Joseph and the others walked out. With them gone, she turned to Jojo and carefully asked, "Hey, have any of you two… tried calling Holly?"

The last they had heard, she wasn't doing so good. With all the time that's passed since they received that news, Holly must have undoubtedly grown worse. Della wished it was the opposite, but she knew she'd never get better unless they complete their mission. Even still, she had wondered if her two sons made any attempt to contact her.

Joutarou slowly shook his head, then Jojo, who mournfully said, "No. Honestly, I don't think I have the heart to talk to her. She's miles away, and there's nothing I can do for her. Plus… I don't think I could hold it together if I hear how weak she's gotten."

" _Same here_ ," admitted Joutarou solemnly. " _But… she's still our mom. As much as I might want to break something hearing her voice, the least we could do is call her to let her know we're okay._ " Della liked seeing the younger brother's soft side. It always showed that there was more to Joutarou than what he would want people to believe. " _Maybe we can call her after dinner. It might be late, but she wouldn't mind since it'd be us._ "

"Yeah, she definitely wouldn't mind…" He then cracked a smile. "She'd love that. I'd imagine she'd be cheery through the sickness. And speaking of sick, right on time, nurse!"

He had referred to a young nurse, who had appeared at the doorway with two medicine cups filled with small pills and a wide smile on her face. "Mr. Trejo and Mr. Kujo," she addressed them formally, "it's time for your evening medicine."

"Ah, thank you. That's helping a lot more than I'd like to admit." As he took his medicine, Della noticed something strange with the nurse. Her legs were rubbing together, almost as if she needed to use the bathroom. And her eyes looked rather strange as she stared at him. When Jojo noticed, he asked her, "Is everything okay?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Trejo," she said with trained formality, "but I have never met such handsome men in my life. Both you and your brother. Forgive me if that sounds a bit forward coming from a nurse."

"A bit. But it is flattering, thank you." Joutarou grunted in response, which Della took it as him not caring.

Her lips trembled in response. "Which is why… I need you!"

And then, the nurse flung himself at Jojo and kissing him full on the lips. It was so shocking and unexpected that everybody was caught off guard. Except Iggy, who yelped from being squished and bit her arm. The nurse screamed and let go immediately, right before Della rose to her feet and slapped her from across the bed. But the attacks did nothing to change the now lustful gaze and smile on her face.

"Oh, Mr. Trejo," she moaned hungrily as she undid the buttons on her blouse. "I don't care if you're my patient or that you're injured… I want you to fan my flames and make me your bitch…"

"You stay away from my boyfriend," growled Della, who summoned the insect-like All My Love and fired a bubble from her fist. It burst square into her face and knocked her unconscious. She then turned to Jojo, trying to control her anger. "A-Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah," he muttered, looking over at the fallen nurse. "Well, that was pretty weird. How much do you wanna bet that was part of a Stand attack?"

"It definitely was… Damnit, why do we have to be attacked here, of all places? There's too many innocent people here, all of them weakened. Whoever's attacking us, they were probably waiting to strike while you both were injured and the others left…" She had to hand it to the assassins, they were certainly getting smarter. _Not like that's any comforting…_ "Damnit… I don't think this nurse is gonna be the only one…"

Joutarou eyed her curiously and asked, "Are you planning to go out there?"

She nodded in response. Given their condition she was the only one who could stop this attack. "I'm gonna have to. You boys stay here. I know you can use your Stands protect you, even if it's limited. But you also have Iggy here. I won't take long."

"Y-You're seriously going out there," asked Jojo worriedly. "We don't even know what's going on. All that happened was I was attacked by a horny nurse. Sure, it could be a Stand attack, but-"

But Della silenced him with a finger to his lips. She looked down at her boyfriend with both seriousness and care in her eyes, the kind that would take no arguments. "I'm willing to take that risk for you boys. You're both injured and the others… I don't know when they'll be back. I'd rather something be done about this now than waiting for them… That's why I'm going."

"But… you're not afraid?"

"Of course I am," she admitted, her voice almost a whisper. "Every time I come across one of these lunatics, I feel fear in my heart. But I overcome it through my love for you. I get my courage from you and my will to protect you all. Like we all said back near Pakistan. 'To know courage is to take fear and make it your bitch'. That's what I've done since India. I'm not gonna let fear make me her bitch."

She knew that deep down, Jojo didn't want her to fight. Of course, she also knew that he felt pride whenever she fought, which also made her feel proud in herself. Della wanted to fight. It was something she promised to them all, that she would fight for them no matter the circumstances. And Jojo himself knew he couldn't stop her.

He sighed and then said. "Just promise that you'll be safe."

"I can't promise that," she said with a smile and a quick kiss. "But I can promise I'll fight my hardest." As she and All My Love walked out of the room, her Stand enveloped herself in a shroud of bubbles. They detached from her body and stuck to the door frame, blocking off entry. _These should stop anyone else from getting in. If they try and touch any of these bubbles, they'll get knocked out. I just hope this is enough…_

Out in the hallway, things were relatively normal. Some nurses were walking by, some glancing and waving politely to her. There was nothing out of the ordinary at all, which made the attack on them all the more unnerving. _Maybe we're just blowing things out of proportion_ , she thought. Maybe it was just some crazed nurse and not a Stand attack. But… It's better to be safe than sorry…

She caught the attention of one of the female nurses and asked her, "Excuse me. Um, this may seem like an odd question, but have any of the other nurses here been acting strange recently? Like… like they've become lustful?"

"Lustful," she asked with a raised eyebrow. "Well… not really. Everyone I know has been acting quite normally. Why do you ask?"

"Well, my boyfriend who's been admitted here was attacked by one. And I was just worried that something was-"

Her sentence was cut off by a man screaming down the end of the hall. She and everyone in the hall turned to the noise o see a frazzled male nurse scrambling from down the stairs towards them, eyes wide in shock. "Hey, what's going on," asked Della, fearing the worst."

The man didn't stop running as he screamed, "THE WOMEN! THEY'VE GONE NUTS! ALL OF THEM! ON THE UPPER FLOORS! THEY TRIED TO RAPE ME!" And with that, he disappeared down the other end, undoubtedly to warn the lower floors. As he had left, several women had descended from where he had fist appeared. Some of them were nurses. But all of them were in only their undergarments, and all of them had the same look at Jojo's lusty attacker.

Now there was no doubting that this was a Stand attack.

The small group ran straight for her as well, or rather for their escaped prey. With All My Love still out and invisible to all but Della, she fired off several concussive bubbles to render them unconscious. She didn't know how long they would stay down, so she really had to work fast. Her attention turned to the shocked nurse and said, "Warn the facility. Lock up all the doors in the lower levels and all exits until this blows over. I'm gonna go find the source of this chaos and put it out."

She could only nod as she reached for a nearby phone. Della simply walked over the women and towards the stairs that would lead to the pandemonium above. Whatever lied up there, she was prepared for it.

"You got this, Della," she spoke to herself as reached the stairwell reserved for employees and ascended as quick as she could. "It's just another Stand user. Can't be too difficult to take down, right? You're Stand's pretty strong. You got this. Everyone's counting on you…"

And when she opened the door to the next floor and stepped into the hall, she could see it. Hear it. Women running around naked and grabbing the nearest man they could, the sounds of laughter, moans and screams filling the air. Some of them were already in the throes of sex on the floor, willing and otherwise. It was an insane orgy that Della wanted no part of.

Standing at the very end, looking her dead in the eye, was what looked like a green cactus on limbs, bumpy and covered in seed-filled holes rather than spines. It looked rather motherly, plump with large breasts discretely covering by pink lotuses. One was perched precariously atop her head, which had expressionless holes for eyes. Both Della and this creature, undoubtedly the Stand causing the insanity that separated them, stood stock still and staring at each other as if measuring them up.

All of a sudden, there was a beep above them. The P.A. blared on and issued out a male voice. "Attention third, second and first-floor staff. Please lock all residents doors and all exits. Do not interact with the female staff. The fourth floor and above is off limits. I repeat, do not go up to the fourth floor and above."

"You're a lot smarter than I thought, Ms. Brown," said the plant-like Stand in a high, feminine and polite voice. It had no mouth at all. "But why didn't you bring that cute little dog with you to sniff me out? It would have been a smarter thing to do then approaching me alone."

"I left him to protect my friends," answered Della confidently. "I have faith in him. Besides, I can handle a Stand user on my own. I've done it before."

"Oh, how brave of you!" And it sounded like she meant the compliment." But here's one little problem. My Stand isn't exactly the kind you wanna touch at all. She's as deadly as the seeds in her body. If you even try to touch me, you'll burst these seeds and release a cloud of pheromones that'll make you and as horny and sex-driven as every girl in this building. It's a shame I can't do it to the men. If you were any of your other friends, then I'd be in big trouble.

"You already are for doing something like this." She and All My Love approached her slowly. "My friends are here recovering, and we can't even do that without having to fight another one of Dio's crazed Stand users… On top of that, look around you. Look at the pandemonium you're causing. There are men here who are being _raped_ because of you." As she passed one of the nurses, All My Love knocked her off her prey with a concussive bubble.

The enemy giggled. "Why should that be a big deal? These men should be enjoying this once-in-a-lifetime experience. They're the kind who would kill to make love to such beautiful nurses."

"Do you even hear yourself?! Not everyone is like that! Look at some of these men you're putting this through!" The man she had saved grabbed his pants and ran off in a panic. "They don't want this! On top of that, you're subjecting women to do this unwillingly as well! They're not even consenting to this shit themselves! It's rape no matter how you look at it, you bitch! Or are you such a sexed-up maniac that this doesn't even faze you?!"

Her response was another giggle. It was starting to get on Della's nerves. "But it's fun. My Stand, the Goddess Isis, is meant to give people a good time. So why don't you stop this silliness and take a seed from her. Burst it in your hand and inhale it's scent. Then go back downstairs and make sweet love to that handsome boyfriend of yours. Surely he won't mind being ridden by someone as aroused as you would be, even if you are quite unattractive."

That was the last straw. Della had has enough of her. She and her Stand rushed at their foe with a roar, a bubble-infused punch flying straight into the face of the Stand. But it was grabbed both of them being twisted and spun in the air. One of the seeds dislodged itself from an arm and burst right before her eyes, a yellow cloud of smoke hanging in the air. Luckily, as Della was landing, she formed a bubble around her head, providing her both air and safety from the dangerous fumes.

Both her and her Stand jumped back and began punching the air. "AMORAMORAMOR," roared All My Love as a barrage of bubbles shot at the seed-filled Stand. Isis avoided them all rather gracefully for a heavyset spirit, laughing as the walls crumbled upon being touched by the concussive stream. One of the bubbles managed to nick the enemy's leg, destroying a small part of her thigh in and making several seeds on there burst into another cloud.

"Ooh, that stings," growled Isis playfully as her thigh slowly regenerated. It did not have the holes anymore, but rather small dips where they were supposed to be. "I'm kind of seeing why Melania lost to you."

"Melania," asked Della, not having heard the name before.

"She's the one with the minotaur. Greek, I think."

An image of a blue, bull-like Stand with its skin breaking apart like stone flashed in her mind. _Melania… that's that Stand's user_ , she realized with a shiver. She hated remembering that day, despite it being the same day she became more courageous. "Let me guess, you saw the condition I left her in?"

"Oh yes! You did an amazing job! All bloody and missing some chunks of her skin, it's like seeing the aftermath of a zombie attack or something!" She giggled and patted the new skin on her thigh. "But unlike her , my Stand can regenerate its lost skin. It'll take an hour to get some seeds back. Not like I'll need to wait that long to _really_ get this hospital in a panic."

"What're you talking about..?"

Isis strode toward her, swaying her hips as if hoping to seduce her. All it did was disgust her. She stopped right in front of her and cupped the bubble around her head. And while there was no mouth, Della could make out the smile on the Stand's face. "Think of it as a gassing that would make Hitler proud."

Della took advantage of the closer distance to strike the Stand again, but she swung at air. Isis had jumped backwards and laughed giddily as she ran past her to the stairwell. She wasn't going to let her get away, not after she just revealed her plan for everyone. _One of those seeds has the potential to kill this entire hospital_ , thought Della, determined to save not just her friends, but the entire hospital. _She's probably gonna head for the roof… There's no way I'm gonna let that happen._

Sure enough, she saw the quivering plant skipping up the stairs, ignoring a door that lead to the next floor. All My Love shot a bubble straight at her to hopefully knock her down, but it was easily avoided. "You can't catch me," sang Isis with glee, echoing through the well. Another bubble was shot, shattering some of the stairs in front of the enemy. All it did was make her pause for a moment before bounding over the gap.

"Oh, you cheeky son of a bitch," screamed Della as she continued the chase. She didn't know how many stairs she climbed. But what she did know was that they eventually stopped with one last door, which Isis had burst through. She wasted no time going through, finding herself and her enemy on the hospital's rooftop overlooking the city. It was Far Away Eyes over again, only there was no cowering Stand user awaiting her this time.

And this time, there would be a fight.

Isis simply looked behind her, where an AC vent rested, and then back at Della. "You know, I wasn't exactly expecting to fight you at all, Ms. Brown" she said idly, still sounding polite despite the situation. "I had ended up in an accident the other day, and I thought I'd just recover and forget about my mission for the time being. But then I saw that Polnareff boy, and I realized you all had to be here! I didn't want to miss an opportunity to attack you all."

"So why didn't you go solely after us rather than turning the hospital into an massive orgy," spat Della, her fists clenched so hard they were shaking.

"Well, I figured that keeping this place in a constant state of euphoria would be enough to keep your group busy. And buy me some time to pick you off one by one while you were all busy having sex like the rest of the building. Like I said, it's a shame men are unaffected. If the building wasn't locked down, then surely some of the nurses would have kept your friends occupied.

"You're just sick…"

"Maybe. But… I do have my little secret weapon. I'm sure you've guessed what I was planning, right? A mass gassing that will break down everyone's body into a nice, pulpy mush. The whole sex thing was a little diversion to make everyone's last moments worthwhile. It's too bad you can't be down there to comfort your boyfriend one last time before I end your lives in the most horrific way possible. Unless you want to go do just that? I'm willing to spare you for now if you want that."

Della couldn't believe how casual she could talk about killing without wanting to throw up. She could never understand. And it angered her as much as it repulsed her. "What is it with you all," she shouted, unable to contain her self. "Why are you all so comfortable with wanting to kill so many people?! Just so you can kill one group of them! What could you possibly hope to achieve in massacring innocent lives?!"

"For some of us, it's money. For others, it's recognition. And then there's people like me, who just want to have fun with their powers. You know how amazing it is having a Stand and using it with no repercussions? And with the powers I have… I can't tell you how many times I've done this at clubs, and nobody's been able to pinpoint who killed them!"

"Is that why you pledge loyalty to Dio?! Just so you could fulfill your sick kicks?!"

"Pretty much. Does that rile you up, little Ms. Brown?"

"As a matter of fact, yes!" She was done talking. There were no more words to waste on this dirty Stand. She needed to be put down. All My Love punched the air and shot her usual barrage of bubbles once more, all of them dodged with the grace of a fat ballerina. And the more she missed, the more annoyed Della grew. It didn't' help that her foe was giggling like a little girl.

"You can never hit me, sweetie," shouted Isis playfully. "And even if you did, I'll always regenerate! You'll have to destroy every last bit of my Stand if you wanted to beat me!"

She didn't need to destroy her. Killing someone was not something she wanted to do to any of Dio's men, no matter how evil they were. Except for Dio himself. Simply retiring her opponent was all she needed to do. She just needed to get a good shot in and cripple her. But she was so nimble. How was she going to hit her? _Come on, think, Della… What else can you do besides shooting bubble and making walls with them? Unless..._

As she was thinking and firing her bubbles, she noticed that Isis had swollen up like a big balloon ready to burst. Her seeds look ready to shoot out. But then, to her surprise, they opened up and revealed thorns as long as those on a large cactus. What her enemy had planned, she knew it was going to hurt.

A lot.

"Try and dodge this, Ms. Brown," shouted Isis. "Lotus Needle!"

The thorns shot out at an incredible speed in every direction. Della had all My Love create as many bubbles as she could, only stopping a good handful of them. But the ones that got through pierced both her and her user, making them yelp in pain from the sharpness and how deep they managed to break the skin. Her face was protected by the bubble around her head, but the pressure of the multiple needles made it pop and leave her defenseless.

This didn't worry her as she staggered and tried to pull some out.. She was more concerned about the fact that Isis had swollen once more and fire a second wave of needles. And she hadn't any warning or time to defend herself properly. More of them snuck through and pierced her harder. The pain forced a shaky, whining Della to drop to one, mercifully-spared knee . She didn't want to give her the satisfaction of seeing her suffer, but she couldn't control herself. It stung so badly.

Isis was beside herself with glee, skipping her way to her fallen prey and giggling. "Oh, what a shame," she crooned as if to a baby, grabbing All My Love by the neck and choking her and her user by extension. "What a poor, poor shame. Far Away Eyes couldn't do the job right. None of them could. They would have given you a quick death. But not me, Ms. Brown. I'm gonna make you suffer, just like everyone else in this hospital. But first, a little kindness from me to you. "

She plucked one of the seeds and brought it to her prey's nose, ready to pop it. "I'll send you back down there, influenced by my aphrodisiac. You can have as much fun with your boyfriend, maybe even his brother… By the time you reach them, I will have released a few more seeds into the vents and infect the entire hospital. After that… After a few minutes…" She reaches a finger into one of her eyes and carefully takes out another larger, black and shriveled seed. "Massacre."

Dio truly knew how to pick his assassins. If they weren't lost souls who were tempted by his grandeur, then they were the worst type of scum in the world. Rapists, cold-blooded killers, and complete psychopaths. This woman fit the criteria of all three, and it made Della's blood boil like it never had before.

In response to this, she spat into the mouthless face, even though it simply phased through her. She hated everything about this Stand, and she was not afraid to show it. She would have punched her with All My Love, but that was too risky without her bubble helmet. Not like it mattered, for her Stand's cheeks were pushed by Isis's fingers and her mouth was forced open. The aphrodisiac seed was dropped.

"You know what," said Isis, all her joy and politeness now replaced with annoyance, "forget it. I was going to give you a chance to enjoy your last moments on Earth, but you fucked it up, you little ungrateful bitch. I'm going to kill you. The others can wait. You can take the full brunt of my exterminating seed and suffer like everyone else will soon. And trust me, you'll experience a greater pain than they will…

"Nobody disrespects the Goddess Isis and gets away with it. Not even a pasty, bushy-haired bitch like you, Della Brown!" But as she was about to shove the black seed into her mouth, she screamed and let got of her. Della looked up and saw her would-be-killer shaking her undamaged leg and howling in absolute pain.

 _That's weird_ , she thought as another bubble enveloped her head. _The seeds aren't bursting or anything. I didn't hit her either… Is her user getting a charley horse or-_

"GET OFF ME," Isis yelled at nothing, breaking her thoughts. "GET OFF ME, YOU STUPID DOG! PLEASE, YOU'RE BREAKING SKIN! THAT'S MY CALF! STOP!"

There was her answer. Somehow, somewhere below them, Iggy had somehow snuck out of the room he was supposed to guard and found the Stand user. Perhaps he sensed she was the one cauing the chaos, or perhaps she managed to anger him in some other way. But whatever the reason, his attack left Isis absolutely vulnerable to a all-out attack. Ignoring the needles all over her body, Della rose to her feet charged at Isis.

There wasn't even a moment to say anything before All My Love silence her with a continuous cry of "AMORAMORAMOR!" and a flurry of bubble-coated fists breaking apart her plant-like body with each consecutive impact. The seeds burst and covered them both in a thick, yellow cloud that neither could see out of. But it didn't matter. Della knew where she was hitting. With one loud "AMORE!" and a powerful punch, Isis's body shattered into countless pieces and faded into thin air.

The gas that surrounded them disappeared as well, leaving Della all alone with the needles and the returning pain. With the battle over, her only concerns were patching herself up and making sure that, with Isis's defeat, the orgy has somehow ended. _I did beat her, so wouldn't that negate the affects of her aphrodisiac? It_ was _part of her Stand, it would make sense if it did. If not, then clean-up is going to be a bitch…_

Sighing a breath of relief, she went back into the stairwell and descended as quick as she could without agitating her injuries. When she saw the first door she came upon, she poked her head in to check for any more sexual activity. Luckily, there was none to speak of, the women inside buttoning their blouses and as utterly embarrassed as the men were mortified. It seems her hunch was right. Now all she needed to worry about was her friends, and herself. Not to mention finding the user.

She didn't have to wait long to find her. When she returned to her hall, she saw Iggy trotting out of a room that clearly wasn't theirs. There was a scrap of a hospital gown in his mouth covered in flecks of blood. It clearly belonged to the Stand user.

"Good boy, Iggy," she said as she approached him, who dropped the fabric and smiled at her. "I got it from here. Give Jojo a kiss for me." And he bounded off, leaving Della to enter the room of the woman who was sent to kill her. She was laying in bed, a woman as plump as her Stand with beady eyes and short, green hair all spiked up like a cactus. Her whole body was covered in blood and welts, her arms were unnaturally bend and her nightgown had been torn along her leg.

"Hello, Isis." Della approached her, the user groaning in exasperation when she saw her. "You got another name I can call you?"

"Carmen," she croaked in a mix of pain and regret..

"Carmen. Well, I'm glad you're alive, because I've got some questions for you." She gingerly sat directly on her bitten leg, causing her to whimper from the weight and undoubtedly excruciating pain. The pain she felt was only minor, almost numb compared to her. "First thing's first… The Nine Glorious Gods of Egypt. You're a part of them, right?"

"I-I am, can you-"

But Della interrupted. "How many of them are you?"

"Nine, it's in the-" But Della started to bounce herself on the leg. Carmen yelped in response.

"How many are there? We have a fortune teller who has some knowledge about the Ennead, your little group's basis. We fought three Stands who have nothing to do with them. So tell me. Did you replace some of the gods or is there more of you? I'm not gonna get off until I get an answer." When she stood silent and shook her head, the bouncing grew harder. She was screaming now. "Not the answer I'm looking for. Talk, or I get Iggy to bite you again!"

"T-There's more," she gasped, unable to push her off if she wanted to. "There's more of them! I'll talk, I'll talk!"

The bouncing weight was lifted off her leg, leaving Carmen whimpering again and close to tears. But Della didn't have any sympathy to show her. This interrogation was as merciful as she was going to get with this scum. Not after what she said and did. "Then spill it," she spat."

"O-Okay..! I'll talk..!" She took a moment to compose herself before speaking again. "D-Dio found nine… nine very powerful Stand users with unique powers… He renamed them after the Ennead… I was one of them… We were just the Nine Gods of Egypt then… But then, he found several more Stand users like us... And rather than replace us… he kept the newcomers and renamed the group the Nine _Glorious_ Gods of Egypt..."

"It was meant to be a ruse… to catch your group off guard…"

 _So Jojo and Mohamed were right_ , she realized. _But… That leaves the question of…_

"How many of you are there in total," Della finished out loud.

"I'm never…" But when Carmen saw her ready to bounce, she hastily answered her. "F-Fourteen..! There's fourteen of us..! But... I'm sure it's less now that you've beaten several since you arrived… Right..?"

"We have. And we're going to continue beating them until we reach Dio and send him back to hell." Finished with her interrogation, she got off her injured foe and flashed her a smug smirk. "You can try coming back for us once you recover, but you'd only be dooming yourself to another humiliating defeat. I'd suggest rethinking your life up to this point. There's still a chance to redeem yourself, you know."

She was about to walk out of the room and leave the Stand user to recover, but she stopped at the door. Della did not look back as she spoke to her again, calmer than she was a moment ago.

"You know something… Before any of all this, I was just a normal girl. I had no powers or any experience in fighting. And I was scared. Even when I joined Jojo, when I promised not to let him go on his own to his doom, I was scared deep down inside. I had no idea how I would be able to help him or the others. My biggest fear was that I would fail them, or that I would end up dead. And trust me, there were times where I felt this.

"But you know what I did to overcome this? I learned to be brave, to never give up and fight for my friends. Oh, I may feel it again every now and then, and I still sometimes worry about my fears, but that won't stop me. It will never stop me. If there's anything that these past few months have taught me is to never let my fear control me." She finally turned to Carmen, who looked as if her words might have moved her wicked heart. "You shouldn't let your fear control you, either."

"But I'm not afraid of anything," Carmen said slowly.

"Yes you are. All of you are. And you're serving it."

And she left her, but not before seeing the doubt set in those beady eyes.

~+JO*JO+~

Three mornings later and the Joestar brothers were cleared with a clean bill of health. Joutarou's stomach now had a scar on it and Jojo was able to punch freely without even wincing. Della managed to heal up as well, her puncture injuries not at all extensive. With everyone all healed up, it was time for the group to finally leave Edfu and make their way to their next destination.

"So you have her word that she won't come after us," asked Jojo to Della as they walked out of the hospital. She had visited Carmen one last time last night to make sure she wouldn't follow them. When she only answered with a nod, he then asked, "Are you sure you can trust her? I mean, she did threaten to kill everyone."

"Not to mention she plunged the hospital into a sex frenzy," added Jean Pierre, who was disgusted at what the happened in his absence.

Della chuckled and reassured them, "Guys, it's gonna be okay. She's not gonna follow us. I mean, you saw the condition she was in. She'd have to be really foolish to try, especially considering her power only works on women. On top of that, she was pretty sincere about it. I guess what I told her after I questioned her had an affect on her. But, either way, we've got nothing to worry about. We can handle anything that comes our way.

"Damn straight," said Joseph as they approached. He had been waiting with Mohamed for not only them, but the taxi he had ordered for them. "So, is everyone ready?"

"Lead the way, Abuelito," said Jojo with his usual smile.

"Then let's get a move on." He dusted of his fedora before resting it back on his head. "Next stop, Luxor. Our journey continues from there.

~CARMEN: RETIRED~

* * *

STAND TIME

STAND USER: Carmen (カーメン)

STAND: Goddess Isis (アイシス女神)

POWER: B, SPEED: C, RANGE: B, DURABILITY: B, PRECISION: C, POTENTIAL: E

ABILITIES: Divine Isis's characteristic holes are filled with seeds, with regenerate within a matter of seconds. They can either be filled with a powerful, gaseous pheromone that will bring an insatiable lust to whoever inhales it or an annoying cactus needle. Both can be shot out by accumulating air in her large body. She also carries a seed in her hollow head that can wipe out an entire nightclub in a devastating, flesh-eating cloud. Despite her weighty appearance, she is extremely nimble, and also has the ability to regenerate. The only downside to this is that it takes an hour to restore the lost holes on her body to generate seeds.

So to give you guys a better idea about Isis, look up the Lepotitsa from Resident Evil 6. I based her design off of that, but less grotesque. Like a mix between a cactus and a lotus seed pod. I think I nailed it here. IAs for my original idea, it basically involved phone calls to families and a sympathetic Stand user. Which felt very unlike most of Dio's henchmen. So I had to change things up. Anyways, thanks for reading thus far, and look forward to more!


	32. Nothing In Common

I'll level with you guys, I like taking my time in writing. Gives me time to go through everything and make sure everything's as perfect as can be. Kinda feel more and more like Araki, minus forgetting things.

Got nothing much to say now. But I hope you guys enjoy this chapter.

* * *

Ch. 32  
Nothing In Common

JANUARY 12TH, 1989  
13:48  
LUXOR, EGYPT

"The sun always sets in the direction of the Theban Necropolis. Once, in order to prevent the pilfering of grave robbers, the ancient pharaohs of Egypt sought out a safe heaven after death in a steep valley deep in the middle of the Nile. This is the Valley of Kings. Nevertheless, dozens of tombs were illegally dug up. And until modern times, only one remained unstolen: the tomb of the infamous Tutankhamen."

It was on the outskirts of Luxor that the group had come across the sight of these sacred grounds across the west bank of the Nile. They had been dropped off by their cab driver, confident that they could make it the rest of the way. Before they continued further to the city, Mohamed stopped them to talk briefly about this incredible landmark. Despite the desecration it endured, it still filled Joaquín with wonder as to what other treasures may still lay there.

"That village in the rocky mountains," he added, pointing to the small homes behind them, "is where the descendants of these grave robber reside. To this day, these men are still digging caves within the basements of their homes, searching for treasures of gold and silver in secret from their government."

"Do you think there are still some tombs or treasures they haven't discovered yet," asked Jean Pierre, who was genuinely enraptured by all this.

"Perhaps."

Joaquín felt his arm hugged by her girlfriend, who said curiously, "Do you think maybe its places like these that Dio's been able to hire so many dangerous Stand users?"

"I wouldn't put it past him at all," said Joaquín, patting Della's head with his free arm. "How else would he have the means to pay guys like Hol Horse, or that bastard who killed Dad? If he had the audacity to steal from a museum, then it's highly possible that he's desecrated a lot of graves here, too." _It wouldn't be the first time the madman showed great disrespect for the dead_ , he thought bitterly, hating the injustice his great-great grandfather's body suffered from Dio.

Ripping him out of his thoughts was his brother, who asked, "By the way, where did _jijii_ go?"

"At a toilet," answered Mohamed. When they had stopped to listen to him talk about the necropolis, Joseph had excused himself wandered off in search of a bathroom. Surprisingly, there was one a little ways away from town, a wooden outhouse Joaquín saw him duck into. A strange sight, but not an unwelcome one. "Iggy has gone with him in to keep an eye on anything out of the ordinary."

"A toilet," asked Jean Pierre incredulously.

"Do you have to go, too?" The fortuneteller gave him a wry smile, which was clearly referring to the Indian toilet incident.

It took a moment for their slightly-confused friend to understand before his expression soured, grumbling "Only if it works decently…"

As soon as he said this, Joaquín distinctly heard an all to familiar exclamation of "OH MY GOD!" in the distance. Summoning Preciosa, he tuned in on what was going on with his grandfather. The only sound her heard was Iggy's snuffling, the sound of light wind, and Joseph's shocked complaining.

"The air here is so dry," he said in disgust, "that the shit immediately turns to dust and flies off… Is this a wind-powered toilet..? And… OH MY GOD!" There was the sound of him sifting through some sand. "Could this possibly… a sand washlet?! SAND?!"

"Wait a minute," exclaimed an amused Joaquín, turning to Mohamed. "Do people really wipe their asses with sand here?!"

Everyone looked at him in bewilderment before Mohamed chuckled in understanding. "It is not uncommon. Desert sand is considered sterile."

As if Joseph had heard this, there came an even louder and absolutely disgusted "OH MY GOD!" from his direction. Joaquín had to stifle an equally grossed-out laugh as he saw his shrieking grandfather hurriedly leave the toilet. _I personally don't blame him_ , he thought _. This_ is _a public toilet he was trying to use. You can't exactly trust them. Stick to hotel bathrooms next time,_ Abuelito _._

"Just give him a few minutes, guys," he said to the others. "He's relocating right now."

"Glad to know someone has as bad a luck with toilets as Jean Pierre," Della joked, which garnered a glare from the Frenchman. "I'm just joking! Honest, I am!"

"Hey, can you blame any of them? These toilets here are far different than what any of us are normally used to. At least we're not digging up any holes like a dog would."

Joutarou grunted and turned to his brother with a smirk. " _What're you talking about_ ," he asked mildly. " _You were the one who nearly pissed yourself that one night back in the Emirates cause there weren't any big rocks around."_

" _So I felt a bit self-conscious_ ," he retorted, his face reddening and garnering a giggle from Della. " _You and_ Abuelito _were the ones making unhelpful water jokes!_ "

As soon as he said this, he heard what sounded like an electric shock, followed by his grandfather shouting and falling against the outhouse. While it wasn't the best way to drop the conversation, he did just that and ran over to Joseph. The man's artificial hand twitched as he tried to sit himself up, muttering about how he was shocked. "Hey, _Abuelito_ , you okay? We've been waiting for you so we can leave. What happened here?"

He looked up at him and then back at one of the rocks. "Y-Yeah, I'm going," he said with a sigh of relief. "But that sure surprised me… There was electricity passing through there… I wonder if there are wires running underground."

"Wires? What on earth are you talking about?" Joseph then pointed at the rock he was looking at, which had an electrical outlet bizarrely mounted against it. Another strange sight out in the open, more so than the outhouse. "Don't tell me you touched some random outlet like some kid."

"I barely did…" Joaquín helped his grandfather to his feet. "Bah, who knows… It's surreal."

" _Ay, por favor…_ Stop goofing off and let's go…"

They didn't enter town just yet. Rather, they stopped at a small resting point, with a bench set up and a vendor offering them all sodas for them. They didn't speak much, simply enjoying the Coke and relaxing for the moment. However, not all of them were able to unwind. Joseph seemed to look rather concerned about something. His drink remained untouched.

"Hey, what's wrong, _Monsieur_ Joestar," Jean Pierre asked after uncapping his drink.

Joseph seemed to be lost in thought as he looked at his robotic hand. He raised it and then mused, "Hmm… There's something funny going on with my artificial hand… And I just got it from the Speedwagon Foundation… Oh dear…" He tried to bend his fingers, but they seemed to struggle to do so. "I think the oil's run out in these joints…"

"That ain't the only thing acting up," said Joaquín, pointing to the vendor banging on a radio he had turned on for them. Rather than music, it kept emitting static. "But as for your hand, maybe some oil will do it some good. We can check out the city and see if we can find some. Speaking of which, Mohamed," he turns to the fortuneteller. "I know we're taking a train, but how long till we get to Cairo from here?"

"Two days, Joaquín," he answered. "However, we are all equally exhausted and are still recovering from some injury or other." Indeed. For while he felt better, his bones had a tired ache to them. Joutarou couldn't help but wince slightly when he sat And Mohamed's neck was still bandaged up. "How about we stay in Luxor tonight?"

"Let's do it," said Jean Pierre adamantly. "Especially since these Stand users have been getting stronger since we arrived in Egypt. It's feels like we've been barely able to win."

"And with only a handful of these guys to go," Della said before taking a swig of her soda, "we need as much rest as we can afford."

Joseph hummed in agreement as he plucked a bottle cap off his hand. "It's best we do so before we reach Cairo," said Joseph, still preoccupied with his prosthetic. "However, that doesn't mean we keep our guards down."

Everyone finished their sodas and resumed their trek to the city. As they walked away, the radio came back to life. Joaquín could hear its owner wondering if he or his group had a magnet on them. _A magnet_ , he wondered. _No, I don't think anyone else does… Do they?_ It felt bizarre, but it wasn't exactly anything to be too concerned over.

However, it didn't stop with just that radio. A little ways before they reached Luxor, they passed a man hammering away at some box for his cart. Nobody paid him any mind until they were a few feet away. Out of nowhere, Mohamed had suddenly caught the man's hammer, who was doubled over and crying out in pain over some nail. It looked as if it had slipped out of his hands, but something about it felt off.

"Hey, hey, did you hit your fingers with this hammer or something," called out Jean Pierre a Mohamed tossed the hammer to the ground. "Be careful! Throwing your hammer around like that is pretty dangerous!"

Something was definitely bizarre. But as much as he wanted to figure out what it was, Joaquín felt like they should wait until tomorrow to look into it. He wanted to unwind as badly as the others.

~+JO*JO+~

The next morning began rather normally. Joaquín awoke to Della brushing her bushy hair before a mirror, having just came out of the shower. He had gone and bathed as well, got himself dried off, and joined his girlfriend in an embrace from behind. "Good morning, Della," he said with a kiss to her cheek. "Don't you look beautiful today."

"Well, good morning to you too, Jojo," she said with a warm, flattered smile. "Did you have a good sleep last night?"

"Every night with you has been the most peaceful sleep I've had," he whispered, taking in the floral scent of her shampooed hair. "I've had no nightmares whatsoever. Which makes me wonder, do you feel the same when you sleep with me?"

"Hmm… Sometimes. I still get nightmares, but they aren't horrible or anything. Nothing that makes me stew on it. By the way, where's your locket?"

He had left it on the nightstand by the bed, usually keeping it of whenever he laid down to rest. But when he let go of Della and turned to grab it, he noticed that it wasn't there.

"That's odd," he muttered. "Maybe it fell?" Joaquín around the floor and saw nothing. Then he checked under the bed. Nothing there. Even under the sheets, just in case he might have brought it to bed. But there was no locket. Panic slowly started to set in on him. That locket meant the world to him as much as Della and his family.

"Where's my locket," he asked in a shaky whisper, turning to his girlfriend who was pulling her hair in its usual bushy tail.

"It's right there," pointed out Della, who glanced back at him through the mirror."

"No it's not."

She turned around, now looking worried herself. "Have you checked?"

"Yes, I looked." His voice was rising now. "What the hell do you think I'm doing?" He resumed his search, looking all over the room now. In the drawers, and even in their luggage. Clothes flew everywhere as his calmness slowly started to deteriorate. It wasn't normally like him to start panicking over a simple object, but this was his grandmother's locket. It was the only thing he had of hers, having worn it throughout this entire journey. "Where's my locket..? Where the hell is it..?!"

"Jojo, are you sure you didn't go to bed with it? Maybe it's-"

"No, Della, it isn't!" He raised his voice a bit more than he wanted to, but he couldn't help it. "It's not in the bed! It's not under it! Look!" And without even summoning his Stand, Joaquín lifted the mattress off its frame and flipped it onto the floor with the scattered clothes. There was still nothing beneath. "My locket was on the nightstand! I fucking saw it when I woke up! It should have been there but it fucking isn't!"

Della cautiously approached him, her worry now changed to trepidation. It was clear she didn't like to see him in this state, and he felt awful that he was exploding on her. This was not her fault at all. He shouldn't be raising his voice and losing his composure. But he was. All because his priceless memento was missing. "Jojo, it's… It's okay," she quietly whispered. "We can find it together… Let's… Let's go get Iggy."

"Iggy?" The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could even register why she would suggest him.

"Yes, Iggy…" Her hands found his, caressing them in an attempt to soothe his wrath. "His nose is so strong… I'm sure he could pick up your locket's scent… If you take Iggy, you can find it… Trust me, Jojo…"

"Of course I trust you," he whispered calmly as his body slowly began to relax. Her warm touch and soothing voice was all he needed to help alleviate his panic. "I've always trusted you… I need to relax and clear my mind… Can't search for it if I flip out."

"Take as much time as you need," she whispered back, never looking away or letting go. "Breathe. Think of it as your _hamon_. Breathe gently and steadily."

And he did. The two stood there for a few minutes, Joaquín controlling his breathing and relaxing until all of his panic was gone. When he finished, he pecked his girlfriend's lips and said, "I'm gonna go fetch Iggy. I'll be right back," before leaving to hunt down the grumpy Boston terrier. He wasn't too far, taking residence several rooms down in Joutarou and Jean Pierre's room. Looking inside, he found the dog sleeping in an empty bed.

"Iggy!" The dog's ears perked at the sound of his name. When he cracked open an eye, he stretched and immediately bounded off the bed to his friend. "Good boy. Listen, I need a favor from-

" _Niisan_ ," called his brother tired voice. Joutarou peeked his head out from the bathroom, already in his _gakuran_ and adjusting his cap. " _What's going on? I heard shouting. You weren't fighting a Stand user, were you?_ "

" _No, I'm fine_ ," he assured him, appreciative of his concern. " _I lost my locket. It was_ Abuelita _'s_ _before she passed. I'm gonna borrow Iggy for a bit to go look for it. Why are you guys up so early?_ "

Joutarou huffed and stonily answered, " _He wouldn't stop griping about how hungry he is. I told him it was only eight in the goddamn morning, but he wouldn't listen. He's downstairs screaming his head off to_ jijii _'s window. Said something about trying to get him up from the door being rude._ "

Typical Jean Pierre. If he wasn't thinking with his second, lower brain, then it was his stomach. This garnered a chuckle from the elder brother. " _And are you gonna hunt him down?_ "

" _Maybe. I'll try to get_ jijii _to hurry up if he's being too annoying. Good luck with your search. If I find anything, I'll let you know._ "

With a thanks, Joaquín led Iggy back to his room. Della was already rearranging their scattered clothes together with All My Love. The bed was messy, but back on its frame. He picked Iggy up and brought his nose up to the spot on the nightstand where he was certain he left his locket. "Okay, Iggy," he directed as the dog started sniffing. "It's a golden locket on a chain. It's got that weird scent metallic jewelry has. Shouldn't be too hard to pinpoint. I'll give you a whole pack of gum for this."

A few more sniffs and then he stopped. The dog's nose twitched up into the air and sniffed again, turning now to the window. Joaquín opened it up as Iggy scrabbled his forelegs over the ledge, smelling the outside air to locate the missing memento. He sniffed to his left and then barked. _Looks like you found where it went… But then this means that someone took my locket…_

"I'll be back later, Della," he announced before sitting on the windowsill. "I'll meet you guys at the entrance. Go catch up with Joutarou and Jean Pierre outside." He then summoned Preciosa and bounded down the single story of the hotel onto the street below. He wasted no time in running in the direction Iggy's nose took him, keeping him in his arms to help guide him. _Just lead the way. Hopefully we can find it in time to join everyone else for breakfast._

Iggy barked and leaned right towards an alley, which Joaquín turned to. Then left on another street, and left again. The scent of his locket seemed to have gone all over the city. It was clear that whoever stole it wanted to get as far away from the hotel as possible. But they wouldn't get far. He would make sure of it. And the minute he found the thief, he will make them pay.

After running out of another alley, Iggy immediately began to growl and struggle to get out of his arms. "W-Whoa, Iggy," grunted Joaquín as he set the dog down. "What's going on? Do you still smell it?" When he looked up at where he was glaring at, he could see why he was freaking out. He hadn't realized that he had ran all the way to a massive temple, right to its sphinx-lined avenue. There was only one type of thief who would lead him to a place like this.

"Keep your guard up," warned Joaquín as the two made their way to the entry way and into the temple. "There's a good chance that a Stand user's luring us into a trap." The courtyard was devoid of any life, and all too quiet. It was the perfect spot for a Stand battle, if his opponent were the open type. But the thief was not out here. He needed to go deeper in. Straight into an open hall filled with columns, where they would undoubtedly be ambushed.

Both of he and Iggy cautiously approached, Preciosa still out and keeping a lookout. The Fool hadn't been summoned yet, perhaps due to its user not needing it straight away. Stepping within the hall, Joaquín looked between each of the stone pillars for any sign of life. And yet, there was still nothing. "Iggy, do you smell them," he whispered to the dog, who responded with a huff. _No, then. But he was growling when he saw this place. Shouldn't they be here?_

"He's not going to smell me because my scent has been masked."

A gentle, yet somehow emotionless voice echoed among the columns. It came from one of the closer columns. Looking up, Joaquín saw a pair of pale, thin legs in a pair of leather boots swinging over the edge. They fell off to reveal their owner, a tall, thin, beautiful man with a long chin and straight black hair covering one of his rather feminine eyes. He wore a pair of short shorts and a red tube top that complimented his petite, girlish frame.

"Good morning, Joaquín Trejo," he said softly and politely, his voice sounding very convincingly female for a man. "I'm sorry for bringing you here on such short notice. Believe me, I would have sent an invitation to challenge you, but my brother was adamant that we provoke you to chase us. Forgive me for allowing him to steal something undoubtedly precious from you."

Joaquín didn't know what to say. This man sounded genuinely sincere, more so than any other assassin sent his way. There was a certain air to him that made him wonder if he really wanted to be here at all. "Um, it's no problem," he said slowly, still unsure of what else to say. "Um, listen, you sound like you don't want a fight. So… just hand over my locket and I'll forget this even happened."

"Not on your life, fucker," called out a gruff voice. Another man landed beside his feminine brother, shorter, stout and bald save for a black strip along the middle of his fat head. He was dark eyed as well, which matched the long, leather trench coat and pants he wore. His chest was bar to expose the tattoo of a lion's head bearing its bloody fangs. Joaquín's locket hung around his neck. "We've been given a job, and I'm not going back empty-fucking-handed! Your ass is ours, Trejo!"

The thinner of the two quietly muttered, "T-Tom, maybe we shouldn't… Look at the state our comrades were left in thanks to him and his friends."

"The only reason those idiots won was because their Stands were weak. But not ours. Not Divine Shu and Goddess Tefnut. So shut your shit and move your ass in gear, Alan!"

"It's A-Alannah…" He (or she in this case) sounded tired, as if this had been repeated countless times. "I'm not a man…"

Tom didn't even look at his sister, annoyed from the correction. "Whatever, piss off with that bullshit and bring out Tefnut! And you…" He pointed to Joaquín and Iggy. "We've heard about both your Stands. And let me tell you, they don't fucking scare me in the slightest! I'm top dog out of all of Dio's Stand users! And with my brother-"

"Sister," interrupted Alannah meekly.

"And with my brother," Tom uncaringly repeated, "there's no way you fucking mutts will leave here alive!"

Both he and Iggy ran after the man, Preciosa and the quickly-manifested The Fool ready to pummel their assassin. In response, a humanoid lion with a whispy, grey mane and a white, plastic-like body roared into existence. When it did, their came a powerful gust of wind from his gaping mouth. The force of it was enough to blow both Iggy and every grain of sand from his Stand away.

"IGGY," shouted Joaquín, looking back at his confused comrade skidding across the ground unharmed. However, in this moment of distraction, Shu began to slash directly at Preciosa, whose grabbed his arms and headbutted the beast. Disoriented, his enemy soon suffered from a quick barrage of punches that sent he and Tom flying into a pillar. But they didn't crash into it. The lion's wind pushed them back to him and resumed trying to slash at him.

 _His movements are like wind_ , Joaquín noticed as he and his Stand weaved through each slash. _Fast, smooth and powerful… This bastard's almost on par with Preciosa…_ Both their fists clashed, the impact making the users skid apart for a moment before resuming their attacks. _I gotta find a way to break through before-_

Something wet and hard smacked him across the face, throwing him out of his thoughts. Out the corner of his eye, he saw Alannah had summoned her own Stand, a lioness with constantly weeping eyes and grooves along her arms and chest filled with water. Tefnut's hands were held out and drops of water formed and grew at her fingertips. All of them immediately shot straight at Joaquín like bullets, all while Tom's Stand brought his claws down to slash once more.

Preciosa smacked the clawed hand away and swiped a glob of his oil at the water bullets, catching and stopping them. Both he and his user leaped atop one of the pillar. "You both ought to reconsider fighting me," called out Joaquín. "You have no idea what I'm capable of. Either of you! So just give back my damn locket and back off!"

"Don't count on it" growled Tom, his Stand's mane whipping around and generating a whirlwind around itself. "Our Stands represent the very air itself. My Shu can pull in the air and create the strongest, sharpest of winds this side of the Nile!" The whirlwind blew directly at Joaquín, which he jumped out of its way. Not only did it shatter the pillar, but one of the gusts managed to nicked him on the arm. It was as sharp as a swift paper cut.

"And my Tefnut," muttered Alannah, "can generate water from the moisture particles in the air and fire them like bullets." The lioness pointed at Joaquín as he jumped and formed anther ball of water directly in before it. She then flicked it, which shot directly for Preciosa. It had the strength to craze his cheek, mirrored on Joaquín's as he landed against another pillar. "I may not want to fight, but I think it's _you_ who should reconsider fighting us."

Before Joaquín could even argue, there came growl and the unmistakable sound of shifting sand from the entrance of the hall. All eyes turned just in time to see The Fool tearing through on its hind tires. Iggy rode proudly atop it, his mouth in an uncharacteristic, furious snarl. Neither were happy, and they were ready to take it all out on their attacker:

Tom himself.

"This little mutt's got balls! But mine are bigger!" Shu bellowed a gust of wind directly at them. The Fool split in two and let it blow between the halves. Its master jumped straight off and lunged for the lion's master and bit him in the arm. "GRAH! GET OFF! GET THE FUCK OFF!" As Tom roared in pain, Joaquín jumped off from the perch and delivered a punch straight against his chest. The Fool rejoined itself and tackled Shu at the same time, its user letting go just as both Stand and user were knocked away some feet away.

Both he and Iggy approached the now unconscious man, kneeling down to search for his missing locket. He found it immediately in his pocket before putting it back on. "And that's that," he said with relief. Now all that was left was Alannah, who's Stand still remained but looked unwilling to fight anymore. Joaquín turned to her and said, "I got what I came for. You can run away from all this now. I actually do believe you when you said you didn't wanna fight."

"I-I really don't," she admitted, head down but keeping eye contact with him. "I was only dragged into this fight because of my brother… I wanted nothing to do with Dio or you folks… I only wanted the power of a Stand… Not because I shared in his homicidal tendencies or because I desired fortune…"

"So why, then?"

"I… I told you my name is Alannah… I was born Alan Thompson. And…" He gripped his arms in a hug, clearly uncomfortable with saying that. "I despise it… I don't feel like myself, you know..? I don't identify myself as a man, but… but a woman… I try to dress like one, act like one… Act naturally, I mean… And I just want to be accepted for it… Our parents, they had no qualms with that. I was their daughter. They loved me. And they encouraged me.

"But then they passed away. And it was just Tom and myself… He lives in constant denial… And he's a bully… Constantly calling me a queer and refusing to even use my true name… I disassociate with Alan. I'm Alannah… And… I just wanted to be accepted… That's all I want… for him to stop acting like a jackass and see me as I truly am… Alannah…"

Joaquín felt pity for her. She was no assassin like her brother, but a normal woman who wanted to be recognized for who she was. In this day and age, he knew how hard it was for someone like her to be accepted. He had seen and heard it several times back in New York. "But… What does that have to do with wanting a Stand?"

"Simple… They represent who you are inside. Who you are meant to be… Your Stand… it's you. It's male, like you… Now look at my Stand…" Tefnut took a step closer by her user. "It's a lioness… a female… Like I am meant to be… Irrefutable proof that unlike what my brother may thinks, that I might be mentally sick, I am a woman…"

"So you got a Stand just to prove a point..?"

"Partly… Another part of it was curiosity as to what I was truly capable of… And look. I can create water from air. I can pull particles from hot air and create as much water as I need. You know how useful this is for people who have little to no access to proper water? I… I want to help this world… not be a part of this madness that Dio or his minions thrive for…"

"How did you even get a Stand?" It's one of the few things he wanted to learn, apart from the nature of Dio's own Stand. Just how were normal people able to attain them?

Alannah shook her head and sighed. "I ended up giving my body to him for his pleasure… He promised me a Stand if I did… But how he gave me one… I don't know how it happened… I was stabbed in the back with… something very sharp. There was immense pain shooting all throughout my body… I fell unconscious before waking up to having Tefnut."

"And why did he keep you on as part of the old Nine Gods? You're technically part of them, right?"

"I- How did you know?"

"Della interrogated Carmen. Plus we kind of theorized that there were more than just nine when we were attacked by gods not part of the Ennead."

"She was right… But I was kept… Not as a concubine as you might think, but… because Dio saw potential in me… I believed him… Still do… But not for the reasons he thinks… I see myself as having the potential to help others rather than kill. That's all I truly want to do, right next to seeking acceptance for my gender. Which… I can tell you have no problem showing."

"I don't." He recalled his Stand and approached Alannah, who put away Tefnut. "I know a few people like you, so I can understand our plight. I think you're brave, but you need to be braver if you want to fully be accepted." As soon as he reached her, he rested a hand on her shoulder and smiled down at her. "You can do this. I believe in you."

It must have been quite some time since she heard those words, or perhaps never heard them before, for she suddenly teared up and smiled. "I… Thank you, Joaquín… That's… Thank you…"

"You're welcome. So, what will you do from here on out?"

She gave her unconscious brother a quick backwards glance before saying, "Well, I'm leaving him. I'll… probably hide out somewhere away from Dio. Maybe at the hospital with Carmen. She needs the help, especially since my brother was the one who ran her over." _Well, that explains why she was there to begin with_ , he thought pitifully. "But… I think I can help you with another problem before I go. You see, we didn't come alone."

"Of course not," sighed Joaquín, who had a sneaking suspicion something like this would have happened. "Who are they?"

"Mariah and Alessi. They're in town already. They've probably separated your group by now. I don't know about their powers. All I know is that Mariah is a bit of a seductress, and Alessi is… a freak… I don't know why, but I'm so uncomfortable around him… I suggest you run back and help them. I'm going to go back to Edfu."

"You cowardly, fucking faggot…"

Everyone turned back to Tom, who slowly got back on his feet. He had regained consciousness, and judging by the disgust-filled daggers he was staring with at his sister, he was not happy at all. "You think you can run away that easily," he growled. "You think that, just because you don't wanna fight, that you can leave me for dead? Your only family? Your fucking brother?!"

Tefnut immediately roared into existence, Alannah could only glare at her brother. "You… were hardly family… Family is supposed to love and support you. You were all I had left… And all these years, you showed none of that… You used me to fuel your desire for money and blood… That's all you ever joined that… that monster for…"

"Yeah, and so the fuck what," he shouted, Shu forming beside him. "Look at me now, Alan! Look at us! We are Stand users! The world is our oyster for the taking! We can do whatever the fuck we want ant get away with it! You know how long I've waited for this?! All my fucking life! I can finally let loose on this god-forsaken world, and it's all thanks to Dio! Why can't you see the way I do?! You are practically a demigod! You're fucking invincible!"

"I told you… I never cared for that… I wanted just to be me… Not some killing machine you and that horrible man see me as… I'm Alannah… I'm a Stand user… But I would never stoop as low on the moral scale as you, you freak…"

The word freak seemed to affect him deeply coming from her. Tom and his Stand roared louder than before. And rather than be blown away, the entire ground blew up against them. Everyone except for him was sent flying into the air. Water droplets from Tefnut's body and the grains of sand that made up The Fool's body scattered about everywhere. None of them could reach Tom. They were all prey to the raging lion waiting below.

"¡ _Coño!_ , what the hell do we do now," shouted Joaquín as he witnessed Shu's mane whip out and prepared a sharp whirlwind around itself. "At this distance, Preciosa's oil can't reach him!"

"Neither can my water," Alannah shouted back. "The wind's too strong! It'll only blow it all back! Even if I wanted to form some next to him and shoot, I can't! I can only form water at a range of three meters, and we're much higher than that!"

A blast of wind shot straight at her. Before anyone else could react, a wall of sand formed before her and shielded her from the sharp vortex. It looked like Iggy could still control his Stand, despite it being scattered. And seeing it still work gave him an idea. "Hey, Iggy!" The dog turned to his friend, jowls flapping from the updraft. "You wanna get this sucker like I do?! Try to gather as much sand as you can around us and make a big ball! Can you do that?!"

He could only growl, but it wasn't one of anger. It was one of concentration. The sand all around them slowly came together, struggling as if a magnet was keeping them apart. The grains that found one another began forming walls that grew in size, slowly connecting with others they could reach. Sensing what they were doing, Shu launched another whirlwind, which the sand blocked easily. Not a single gust went through.

Before long, they sand enveloped around the three in a ball, More gusts sliced al around it, but the walls quickly regenerated. And they grew thicker. And heavier. Even with the ball formed, more sand was being gathered. Joaquín could feel it. They were no longer suspended in one spot, but were descending back to the ground at an increasing rate. Tom's annoyed growls could be heard as they eventually landed hard on the ground, jostling the three inside.

As they got up, two angry-looking eye holes appeared for them to look out of. Tom looked furious. his Stand's mane now creating a larger whirlwind around itself. "You know something, you little bitch," he growled. "I've always known you were the freak among us… Me, I'm fucking normal! We're all born into sin… It's in our nature to give in to our inhibitions and commit the kinds of crimes you see every day… That's why I live like I do..."

"But you… You're different… You're a fucking freak… Always have been… I've noticed it growing up… Our parents… I don't know how they could still look at you as their kid… And call you… their daughter..! It was sickening..! I hated it! I wanted to kill you and prove to them and the world that you're no woman..! And yet, I couldn't… You were still family, no matter how much I hated you..! But there's only so much I could take before I just can't stand you anymore!"

The barrier around them shifted. The Fool growled, and the sound of wheels could be heard revving. Iggy was preparing to strike him down, his Stand taking a larger form than before. Preciosa and Tefnut waited beside their users in preparation a well. "I'm just as sick of you as you are of me," Alannah said shakily, her face showing nothing but disgust. "That's why I'm leaving… Why I wanted to leave for the past few months since I got my Stand…

"Iggy, was it?" The dog looked up at her in acknowledgement. "Ram him. And clog his airway and neck"

Tires squealed on brick as they all shot at Tom. Shu roared and blew out his wind at The Fool. The eye holes closed, and the sound of sand being scrapped echoed in the nearly hollow inside. "Why did you ask Iggy to clog him," asked Joaquín as low as he can to be heard over the noise.

"Think of it as an air conditioning system," she said. And just like that, he understood. _It'll stop his wind. If he can't breathe, he can't use his power._ "All of his wind is generated in his lungs. The mane comes from that air escaping through holes on his neck. If his airway is obstructed, he's absolutely powerless. Tom only has himself to blame for letting me know his weakness…Just wait for me signal…"

As soon as they were close enough, the sand split apart for a split moment and consumed Tom and Shu, placing them right in front of two very angry Stands. "NOW!" And before the lion could attack, a ball of sand shot from a wall down his mouth. The wind-like mane died down slowly, revealing holes all along his neck. Smaller sand balls shot into those holes as well, probably for safe measures. He was no longer able to use his wind. There was no way to fight back.

Tom and Shu were in for a world of hurt.

Preciosa and Tefnut both pounded away them mercilessly. The walls shot out again with paws that struck all over as well. They made sure they was thoroughly beaten into submission before the walls opened again and the two punched them out hard, straight into a pillar. The Fool and Iggy howled victoriously before the former dissolved back to sand, leaving the others to land back on stone. The fight was over; it didn't look like Tom would be getting back on his feet any time soon.

Or so they thought, for Shu struggled to his feet and tried helping his user back up. But Alannah wouldn't let him. She stormed over to him and pinned him by the throat. It looked like he was struggling like any other person would if they were strangled, but it quickly turned panicked. His eyes were bulging out and he was making gurgling noises in his throat. Water began to dribble out of his mouth.

"A-Alannah, stop," hurriedly said Joaquín, knowing that she was trying to drown him.

"No," she whispered. "I had enough… He's only going to continue… He needs to be put down like the animal he is…"

He reached her and took hold of her arm. "And stoop down to his level? To Dio's level? Look, I'm not gonna lie and say I'm innocent myself. But you… you're not like them… You're better than this… He'll be punished in due time… but not like this… Not by your hands… Please… Don't do it…"

Alannah didn't look at him, but it was clear in her slowly watering eyes that he had gotten through to her. The water spilled out completely down Tom's front before he was let go to collapse in a wet, coughing mess. "You're right," she admitted quietly, wiping her eyes"I-I'm sorry… I'm… I'm not a killer… I… won't be a killer like my brother."

"You won't. You're better than that… Look, I'll take care of everything here. You go on and leave. Make a better life for yourself. I'm gonna try and squeeze some info out of him."

"Alright… Thank you, Joaquín Trejo." She then flashed him a soft smile and walked out of the hall, leaving him and Iggy with their fallen foe. As Tom tried to normalize his breathing, Joaquín pressed his foot against his chest, causing him to groan in pain.

All he asked was, "Powers?"

"For w-who," he coughed.

" _No haga el tonto._ Mariah and Alessi. What're their powers?"

A second of silence, and the shoe dug into Tom's chest. "F-Fine," he wheezed. "Fine! Magnetism and de-aging! Are you happy now?"

Joaquín looked confused for a brief moment. "What the hell do you mean by that?"

"Goddess Bastet… Whatever touches it becomes a living magnet. And Divine Sethan makes someone younger through similar means…"

 _A living magnet… Hold on a second…_ He recounted yesterdays odd events. His grandfather touching the outlet in the middle of the desert, the malfunctioning radio, and the flying hammer. It slowly made sense. " _Abuelito_ touched Bastet..! He's become a goddamn magnet!"

"And no doubt… Mariah's chasing them down… Alan was right when he said they might have split your friends up… Because that was their fucking job... Divide and conquer… She's got her eyes on that old man… As for Alessi…" His face twisted into a cruel smile. "He's got his sights set on your girl… Probably might end up making her young and have his way with-"

Joaquín didn't let him continue, for a swift punch to the jaw knocked the man unconscious. He wasn't too worried about Joseph, despite the danger he was in. He was more than likely being helped by Mohamed, who shared a room with him. But Della and the others…

He wheeled around and ran out of the temple, calling out to Iggy, "We've got to get back, and as quick as possible! Come on, boy!"

~ALANNAH: REFORMED~

~TOM: RETIRED~

* * *

STAND TIME

STAND USER: Alannah (アラナ)

STAND: Divine Tefnut(テフヌト女神)

POWER: C, SPEED: C, RANGE: B, DURABILITY: C, PRECISION: A, POTENTIAL: B

ABILITIES: Tefnut is a simple Stand capable of pulling molecules from heat and create water droplets. These droplets can be increased in size the more molecules are pulled into it. They can be drank from, used as a means to clean, or can be weaponized. Each water ball or droplet can be used in various ways, mainly as projectiles that can either pierce or strike hard. These can only be fired in a set path and cannot change directions, as Tefnut has limited control over the water she produces. She can only produce water at a range of three meters, and can shoot up to 8 meters. The water within its grooves is an extra reserve, which can be used in environments without heat. Very little water can be pulled from colder temperatures, excelling mainly in humid climates like those found in Egypt.

STAND USER: Tom (トム)

STAND: Divine Shu (シュウ神)

POWER: A, SPEED: C, RANGE: B, DURABILITY: B, PRECISION: C, POTENTIAL: C

ABILITIES: Wind is generated from within the lungs of this Stand, which can form a wind-like mane. It can both blow from his mouth and the mane, which can create a type of barrier around him. This wind can reach up to 80mph, with enough force to push even heavy boulders and lift up foes. It can also be pressurized to the point of being able to cut, mimicking the folkloric _kamaitachi_. Shu's only weakness comes from both its mouth and the small holes along his neck. If his airway is blocked off, then he is unable to generate any wind.

Geez, that's a lot. But I didn't wanna split the Stand parameters for this chapter and the next. Anyway, I like these two Stands. Tefnut was created with the idea of an actual water-based ability separate from what Geb showed. If anything, I think if the proper research was done, Tefnut would have ended up exactly like Geb. It was a bit tricky thinking up of the ability. Until I looked up atmospheric water generators, which fit in perfectly with Tefnut's representation with moist air. Shu was simpler given that it's just wind.

Alannah's character and Stand were actually based on a story I read where Jotaro was a female identifying as male, whose Star Platinum was male itself. It was a nice idea, something you really don't see in the series proper (except maybe Jorge Joestar with Mista's The Iron Ladies or Buccellati's Goodnight Moon). Her being transgender kinda ties in with the LGBT movements and the stigma people like her faced in the 80s. Tom's interactions with her were pretty much common at the time, and she will unfortunately continue to witness this behavior for the rest of her life. Silver lining is that there will be people amidst those bigots who will accept her, just like Joaquin.


	33. Big Deal

How is it that my word count on WPS Office (Like Microsoft Word) is so high, but when I put it here it ends up being 1000 words less? Maybe it's how the words are counted up on here? Idk. It's no big deal. The story isn't damaged in any way. Speaking of which, as always, I hope you enjoy this chapter.

* * *

Ch. 33  
Big Deal

JANUARY 13TH, 1989  
08:30  
LUXOR, EGYPT

Back when she was little, Della Brown had always wondered what it would be like to have a sibling. She was an only child to both sets of parents. And when she had asked them for one, she gotten different responses. Her birth father had had a vasectomy (which he passed off as some teen accident) and her adoptive mother had her uterus removed to prevent cervical cancer. She never got a brother or sister as she had hoped.

And yet, despite everything she had gone through these past few months, she never saw her friends as brothers. Sure, they had looked out for one another and shared some interests and humorous experiences siblings would, but she never truly felt a sibling bond with any of them. She didn't understand why. Perhaps it was because she hadn't spent enough time with them, or their clashing personalities.

 _No, that's crazy_ , she thought to herself with a brief, humored smile. _If that were the case, then how could Jojo bond with them so easily? It's not just because they're men. They all have clashing personalities… He's not as stoic as Mohamed or Joutarou, nor is he air-headed like Jean Pierre. So how..? Maybe once he gets back, I can ask him._

"Come on," whined Jean Pierre, ripping her out of her thoughts. "What're they doing? How can they be slower than women getting dressed?"

"I'm right here, you know," Della chided at the sitting Frenchman. They were all outside, waiting for Joseph and Mohamed to come down. Jojo and Iggy were also supposed to be back from his locket hunt by now. And yet, they they stood, still waiting. _Just where is everyone_ , she thought as her stomach growled. _I understand Jojo, but what could be keeping the others..?_

Jean Pierre stood up and stretched. "I say we just go to a diner now. We're all hungry, so why not?"

"But they won't know which diner we've gone to. They could end up lost."

"Are you kidding? Iggy can sniff us out. He can track us all the way to wherever we go."

He was right, but… "I want to play things safe," she said, leaning against a pole It'd be rude to just go without them."

The Frenchman grumbled and looked away. But his disgruntled scowl soon softened when his eyes were drawn to some children playing by the road. Three girls, poor in looks, sat happily in some mud, using cups and making little crude cakes with the sludge. They were pretending to be adults, idly chatting about mature topics. The sight was certainly a heartwarming one.

"It's nice to see innocent kids like this, isn't it," asked a smiling Jean Pierre.

"Sure is," said Della with a chuckle. "It's a refresher from what I've had to see in New York. The kids back home are a little less than innocent. You know how many run-ins with gum and spitballs I've had cause of them?"

"Well, it all comes down to how they're raised and where. Kids are very influenceable, you know."

She turns to Joutarou, who was looking down at his watch and asked, " _What about the kids in Japan, Joutarou?_ "

All he did was shrug and say, "Jijii _and Avdol are running late…_ " They were. A bit more than usual now that she thought about it. It was almost nine o' clock and they still weren't here. Della would have thought Jojo to be back, given how he rushed out to retrieve his locket, but he wasn't. And while Joseph was old (69 years old), he wasn't _that_ old that he'd be taking almost half an hour to get ready. _Did something happen on their way down?_

" _Maybe they've encountered an enemy._ "

" _I don't wanna think that_ ," sighed Della, " _but you may be right. It wouldn't be the first time we were attacked leaving a hotel._ "

"Do you think we should go look for them for a bit," asked Jean Pierre.

Joutarou didn't even wait before he started walking. "Yeah. _Yare yare daze…_ " There was nothing they could do just standing around. She and Jean Pierre followed, keeping their eyes and ears peeled for their friends.

Several minutes passed into their search, and there was no sign of any of them. They were keeping their search close to the hotel, assuming the others would have an easier time being found if they were nearby. But they had no such luck. _Maybe they've wandered out farther? Darn, if only Iggy were here, we'd find them almost immediately._ But Della dismissed quickly dismissed this. _Or maybe not. He's pretty unpredictable. He'd probably just wander off on his own causing trouble…_

Speaking of trouble, she could sense some right nearby, a cold, killing intent best reserved for those working for the madman Dio. It crept up slowly behind her like a shadow, sending a chill up her body. And following it came a soft, tinkling of bells. Della turned around to find a short, bespectacled man in an open, striped purple shirt held by suspenders. With his curved upper lip, beady eyes, and massive, burgundy wings for hair (tied with bells at the bottom), he looked like an overgrown vulture.

When they made eye contact, his stoic, murderous gaze snapped to surprise for the briefest of moments. He played it off as looking around as if he lost something. "U-Um… U-Uh," he stuttered as he lifted his glasses to scan the ground and toe around. "I dropped my coin… Uh… Where is it..?"

She wasn't falling for the act. "Excuse me," asked Della sharply. "Can I help you with something?" The man looked up at her, then looked around as if she were talking to someone else before curiously pointing to himself. "Yes, you. What do you think you're doing? You were following us like you wanted to hurt us."

"She's right," spoke up Jean Pierre, who had stopped to confront their stalker as well. "Don't tell us you're not out for our blood."

"M-Me," asked the man with a disingenuous smile and a thin, lifted brow. "You're talking to me? W-what do you mean? I got these eyes from my parents. I'm not out for anyone's blood. Oh, look!" He pulled out a coin from within his shirt. "Here it is!"

His act was so fake, and his nervousness shone through the sweat beading on his face. It was too pathetic for even Jojo to laugh it. Both All My Love and Silver Chariot appeared beside their users, fists and rapier aimed straight at the man. "If you really mean that," said Della coldly, "then you have nothing to worry about. But that's not gonna stop us from taking any chances. You could be a Stand user… And if you are… then you better pray…"

It was obvious he was one. His calm facade was betrayed by his sweat, which seemed to increase when Silver Chariot's blade nearly grazed his chin. He looked ready to break at any moment. But that never happened. Instead, his shadow beneath him warped somewhat. While it took his shape, its head became rounded with a pointed crest, and a pair of green, dead eyes blinked into existence. And then, it shot straight for the two, barely grazing their feet before they jumped out of its path.

"That was close," barked Jean Pierre as they landed. The shadow shrank back and turned its head to show off its crest and cruel beak. 'So you _are_ a Stand user!"

He didn't answer, nor did he smile. He must have only wanted to make himself known, for he did nothing else except turn tail and run for his life.

"H-Hey, come back here," shouted Della before running after him.

"W-Wait up," called out Jean Pierre, who followed after. He then shouted out behind him, "Hey, Joutarou! It's the enemy! The enemy's shown himself!"

"Jean Pierre, let's split up! We can catch him easier if we trap him!"

As they chased him down the street, Della quickly ducked into an alley away from the two men. Knowing how some of Dio's assassin's worked, this Stand user would have ran into one as well in hopes of losing Jean Pierre. But if her idea worked, then she could catch and ambush him. But as she went between the homes and shops, everything seemed to be growing farther and farther away. Her clothes also seemed to be growing heavier on her.

 _What's going on? Is this an illusion? Did touching that shadow cause this? Did Jean Pierre get affected, too?_

She then turned another corner and bumped into something large and covered in cloth, which made her yelp and fall to the ground. What did she hit? When Della looked up, she saw that they were pants, belonging to a large, bearded old man with worry on his face.

"Oh, I am so sorry," he apologized in a high voice,. "Little foreigner girl! Are you okay? You're not bleeding are you? Here." He knelt and easily helped her to her feet. He was so gigantic. "Why don't I take you home? You look very hungry."

"N-not right now," she said hurriedly. "I need to help my friend! Thank you, though!" And as Della resumed her chase, her mind slowly clouded with mounting worry. _Something really bad happened_ , she thought as she kept running down the street, avoiding the towering pedestrians she passed. _Everyone's so big… and… I feel small… My clothes are all heavy and… my voice sounds so high..! Just what the hell did he do to me, shrink me or something?!_

And when she took a quick glance around, she came to a stop. There was something disturbing reflected on a store window. A shocked little girl looked back at her, thin with light brown curls on her head. Bright green eyes shone on a freckly body was swimming in a red tunic and a black undershirt and leggings. Boots swallowed up her legs. And on her ears were a pair of pearl earrings. The same one she was given for Christmas.

 _This is… no… it can't be… is that..._

Then Della looked down at her body, and everything horrifically made sense.

"I-I've been turned into a kid," she yelped. "That bastard turned me into a kid! And-" She had another realization, just as awful as this. "And if I'm a kid… then that means-"

"Hey! You there!"

An equally high but boyish voice called out to her. She looked beside her and saw, to her horror, a young Jean Pierre running after her. She knew it was him because of that short pillar of silver hair and those half-heart earrings. But now he looked like a brat, with buckteeth and faint freckles on his cheeks. his large clothes hung loosely to his small body, and he was missing a shoe, as well.

"Did you see him go by," he asked as he caught up to her. "A guy with big hair like wings?"

"Jean Pierre, it's me, Della," she squeaked.

"W-What," he yelped, stopping to look up and down her body. "N-No you're… wait… you're the same size as me..! But everyone else-"

"Is bigger because we've been turned to kids," she finished before turning his head to face the window. "Look!"

The realization slowly settled in for him when he gazed upon his younger self. "N-no way..! This boy… this brat... Impossible..! I'm a k-k-kid?! How am I a kid?! _Mesonges, mesonges, mesonges!_ "

She took a hold of his shoulders and looked him straight in the eyes. "Listen, I'm just as freaked out, too, but we have to calm down and plan this out. That guy's shadow is his Stand. Stepping on it is what made us kids. Right now, we're in massive danger. We need to get help. We can't fight this guy in this state."

"But who should we-" He stopped when his attention turned to someone walking by. Della turned and saw that it was a tall boy wearing a navy blue cap and jacket. She knew him. And so did Jean Pierre. "H-hey, that's-

"Hey," called out Della to the boy, whose attention turned to them. "Jo… Jou…" She stopped, but not because of his stoic gaze. "Joe… No, Johnny… Jordan..?" Della had forgotten his name. _But… I know him_ , she thought, confused that she would forget. _I know him, but not his name? He's so… familiar… I know he can help us… So why can't I… Did turning into a kid… make me forget my adulthood..?_

"Hey," he addressed her gruffly, his stoicism hiding only the slightest hint of worry. "Just now, did you two kids see a Frenchman and a girl around? The man is about my height, the girl shorter. Their hairstyle is almost like yours."

"O-Oh, that's me," said Jean Pierre excitedly.

"And me too," squeaked Della, knowing well that he was talking about them.

The youth's face was unreadable. She couldn't tell what he was thinking at all when he looked down at them both. But it was clear that he didn't believe them when he turned around and walked off, muttering in a different language, " _Yare yare… Kodomoni kiitanoga machiga idattaze…_ " She was supposed to know this language, and she was supposed to know him. But she didn't, and it made Della feel crushed and afraid.

 _No_ , she shouted fearfully in her mind. _We need his help..! He's the only one that could help..!_ Both she and Jean Pierre tried running after him, only to stop when the vulture-haired man who turned them into kids stepped out from an alley. His cold eyes, cruel smile and chuckle froze them both in place.

"You've both have the body of children," he said silkily. "That is to say, you both have the brains of children, and your memories will slowly revert back to your current age. Heh heh heh… I guess it's time, then? Picking on the weak… I just looove it..! I'm so great…"

They didn't need the confirmation that they were children, but the memory loss was worrisome. She could feel her time as an adult slipping away. The boy beside her… All she knew was his name, and that he was a Stand user and her friend. Everything else was a blur. Her journey, her friends… and the man who made her feel like the most special woman in the world. She couldn't even remember him, and it made her want to scream at this man.

But she had no time for him. She needed to get the youth's attention again. She and Jean Pierre tried running past the man, but he stepped in front of them and blocked their path. "Sorry," he growled teasingly. "Ain't letting you through, you little urchins!" The man chuckled and knelt before the children, whispering even as the youth was out of earshot.

"You know, I can't say this out loud, but it's in my nature to bully the weak… Heh heh… I think I have a perverted personality… But, you wanna know what I always say? 'If you think you're weird, then you really aren't.' With that logic, I'm not weird at all. And it gives me a the sense of security I need to know that I'm not gonna lose to a bunch of kids…"

They were in deep trouble, and they needed to get away. They needed help.

"MISTER," cried out Jean Pierre frantically behind their predator, "WHATEVER YOUR NAME IS, HEL-" He couldn't even finish his sentence as he was kicked right in the stomach and into the alley. Della tried to say something, but his large hand muffled her. He rushed her into the alley as well and pushed her onto her back. She saw the silver-haired boy trapped within some pipes and planks from an awning the moment she landed on her back.

As she slowly got to her feet, aching from the impact, the man parted his shirt to unholster a gun. "That being said," he muttered ruefully, "my only mission is to end your lives." He then took out out a stubby pipe and affixed it to his gun's muzzle. It was a suppressor, from what she could remember. "Unfortunately, I've got no time to bully to bully you two." And then he took aim at Della. Fear slowly started to swell up inside her. She had no means to defend herself this close. She was doomed.

The man shot several rounds at Della, who instinctively closed her eyes and waited for the piercing pain of death. But it never came. After a few seconds of nothing, she dared to peek and saw several bubbles floating between them, having caught the bullets. And beside her was a pink, fairy-like spirit in a magenta, hole-lined bikini armor. She was about as tall as Della.

"Huh… So this is All My Love… I had hoped that you wouldn't have your Stand, given that you never awakened it until just recently..." He looked at the bubble in annoyance. "But I guess a near death experience summoned it early. And as a kid, just like you."

 _He's right..! My Stand..! I remember it now..! But this young… it has to be weaker than before..!_

"She's not the only one with a Stand," cried out Jean Pierre. "I've had mine ever since I was a kid! Silver Chariot!" And so he summoned a silvery, robotic knight with a rapier. But his appearance was stunted, just like his user, and it was quite a shock to the French boy. "Oh no! He's a kid, too! Come on!"

"As my Stand, Divine Sethan, can make you revert to children," started the man, "it can also do the same to your mental strength. In other words, your Stands will come out as children! And just as underdeveloped as you both." He chuckled sadistically and reached into the other side of his shirt. "Do you understand?" When neither of them answered, he muttered, "So you do… Good kids…" and pulled out a large, silver axe from within his shirt.

His shadow, which he called Sethan, blinked to life with the axe in his own hands. As it grew and loomed closer, Della backed herself against the wall beneath the now-struggling Jean Pierre. "But, even though it has such a weak power… the fact that you can still use a Stand…" His Stand was now against the wall, both his and user's axe raised and ready to strike. "… means that I must kill you with my own..!"

"No!" Without giving it much thought, Della used All My Love to fire several bubbles at both the man and his shadow. The merely cracked the wall and made the killer wince slightly and chuckle.

"What, did you expect to knock me unconscious or something," he sneered. "I told you, your Stand is underdeveloped! I know about your bubble's concussive and conductive properties already. And these… All I feel is a kid's slaps on my skin, you little brat! On top of that…" The shadow's hand and axe oozed out from the wall into existence, becoming physical. "You can't hurt my Stand at all! Now watch as I kill Polnareff! He's all mine!"

The blade swung for both Jean Pierre and Silver Chariot, defenseless in their perch. But as he shouted "OH NO!" in fear, his Stand tried valiantly to block the oncoming strike. While he succeeded, the force of the blow broke off the thin blade. The man laughed at his misfortune before said blade spun down and pierced into his neck, making him lose his composure and panic in pain.

"S-Serves you right," said Jean Pierre with false bravado. "I was aiming at you the whole time!"

"Hurry, get down," called out Della "Come on, we gotta get out of here!"

The boy fell in a bloody, dirty mess from his perch, but he immediately scrambled to his feet and grabbed the blade from their attacker's neck The children then ran out of the alley as fast as their little legs could take them.. They needed to get as far away from him as possible and get the help they needed. Rather than finding the youth in the jacket, they ran into a tall, kindly woman with a cloak over her head. "Oh my," she gasped concernedly. "Are you both okay?"

Della looked behind her to see if they had been followed. Thankfully, their attacker hadn't. He wouldn't dare approach knowing there was another adult in the vicinity. This woman's presence alone gave them safety. But it wouldn't be for long.

"Y-Yes, we're fine, lied Della, trying to move past her. "We're looking for a friend of ours, and we need his-"

"Hold on," she interrupted. "What about your friend's injuries? And all that dirt on you? What happened?"

"W-Well, uh… I… we…" How was she supposed to explain to her that they were attacked by a Stand user? She wouldn't understand. Della could barely understand it herself. "I… We have to-"

But the woman stopped her when she grabbed them by their hands. They tried struggling away from her, but her grip was both firm and strong enough to lift them off their feet. "I don't know what's going on, but it won't do to find this friend of yours in your current state. You both need to be taken care of. Come, I'll clean you both up."

This wouldn't do. They needed to find the youth so that they could confront Divine Sethan again and restore their adulthood. _But_ , thought Della as she slowly calmed and walked with her, _as long as we're with this woman, he won't attack. Maybe this is a good thing… We can both think of a way to get him ourselves while we get cleaned up… Yeah… We'll have time… He'll come to us again… Just not near her…_

~+JO*JO+~

"You think that guy followed us?"

Both Della and Jean Pierre were taken to the woman's home, who kindly introduced herself as Malèna, and were being drawn a bath. They were both looking over the balcony over the city as they spoke. And there was no sign of their attacker, or of the youth whose name they forgot.

"I don't think so," responded Jean Pierre, wiping his bloody forehead. "What should we do if we see him again?"

"We grab him by the neck," answered Della with a mean smile, "and beat him until he turns us back into adults."

"How?"

"With our Stands! Your Silver Chariot's sword might not be strong, but it is sharp. You could poke his eyes out! And my bubbles can hit him in sensitive spots!"

The boy giggled, and playfully punched her arm. "You're so evil! But the nice kind. I like it."

Malèna, who was testing the water in the tub nearby and listening, couldn't help but chuckle. "My, what strange imagination you have," she said, thinking that they were playing. Della couldn't blame her. Even if she were an adult again, this woman would never understand her. "You're both very interesting children. Are you related?"

"No," said Jean Pierre. "We're good friends."

"I see. Now then… " She began to undress to a silky camisole. The little boy looked absolutely enraptured, ogling at her beauty. "I want you both to undress. Girl, if you wish to bathe on your own, you're more than welcome. But you, boy… I have to wash you myself. Get all the mud off and put some medicine on those injuries."

Della didn't waste time undressing, but she immediately climbed into the bubble-filled bath without giving the boy a chance to see her. _I don't know why_ , she thought as she turned off the water and started scrubbing her hair, _but I don't want him to see. I'd rather someone else. Someone… I know… Or, I should know…_

As Jean Pierre floundered, whined about his premature masculinity and drooled over Malèna's beauty, Della tried her hardest to think. She wanted to remember her adulthood, and the friends she had met up until now. But it was a massive blur. All of it. And all she could remember of those friends were shadowy figures. An old man in a hat, a black man in robes, the youth in blue and his friend in green, Jean Pierre himself, a little dog…

And the man she wanted to remember the most.

She felt a deep connection to this mysterious man, more than she had with anyone. And she wished she could find him, just to look at his face and maybe remember something, anything about him. But try as she might, he too was a blur. All she could vaguely recount was a smile and a warm, feeling of safety just by thinking of him. The rest of him, including his name, was a mystery. However, odd as it may seem, this man reminded her of someone she could remember:

 _Lobo…_

She had memories of this boy, with his messy hair and his constant smile. They had met around this time when she was little, and became fast friends. She remembered he had problems pronouncing both his and her name. So she told him to call her Adi and him Lobo. Three days, and one horrible night that changed her life… But he made her feel special and safe in the time they spent together. He meant a lot to her, and she had hoped that somehow, that boy would find her here in Egypt.

"Now let's wash your hair," Malèna stated.

" _Non non non non non_ ," fussed Jean Pierre in her grip. "I _hate_ shampoo!"

 _It would take a miracle_ , she thought as Jean Pierre and Malèna played rock-paper-scissors to determine his hair's fate. _I shouldn't get my hope up on that. What would be the odds of meeting him here?_ She looked over and saw that the boy had lost his battle and gave in to the woman's careful washing of his silly hair. _Slim… But we both need to focus on who's here now… We still need help finding and taking down that man._

As she was finishing up washing her body, she heard Malèna ask in her sweet, soothing voice, "Does that sting?,"

"Yes, it's stinging my eyes," whined Jean Pierre.

"Well, can you wash it on your own?

"Of course I can!"

"Hm… Good boy…"

Della's blood ran cold. That voice, and those words… They did not belong to Malèna at all. And when she turned back to the two, she gasped in shock. The woman was gone, and standing in her place, washing poor Jean Pierre's hair with his grubby hands, was Sethan's user.

"I'll say it again," he gushed after a chuckle. "Good boy…"

The man's shadowy ax reared from behind him, just as both All My Love and Silver Chariot burst out. A flurry of bubbles shot at the man from the tub, but he shrugged them off and grabbed Della by the throat with both his giant hands. Malèna was nowhere in sight. Where was she?

"You're the least of my problems," he said as Sethan's axe slammed into Silver Chariot's wrist. The strike not only pinned him to the wall, but it made his user's wrist slice open in a spurt of blood. "A weak, pathetic little girl with a Stand to match. Your bubbles don't mean jack to me!" He then plunged her head into the water, trying to choke her. She could hear him with her Stand, taunting and laughing. "They're about as useless as your own air bubbles!"

She tried to struggle free, but his grip was too strong. All My Love's continuous bubble shots did nothing to faze him. And when she pulled the bath's plug to drain the water, he pushed her head against it so that her hair would clog it. "It's gonna take quite a while before this water drains," he pointed out after a giggle, looking hungrily down at her from above the water. "So can you hold your breath until then? It'll take maybe five or ten minutes. In the meantime- OUCH!"

As his attention was focused on Della, he didn't notice Silver Chariot had aimed his rapier at him and fired. It made direct contact with his neck once again, throwing him into a fit of pain. The distraction was enough to not only free the Stand, but for Della to pull her hair out of the drain and gasp her way out from what would have been her watery demise.

"Y-You little half-pints," he growled as he pulled out and tossed the blade. "That's the second time! What kind of kids are you to make me look like a fool like that?! Have you no basic human morality?! No real hero would think like that… You're not good kids at all! Not good kids!"

"Shut up already," shouted Jean Pierre in as he pointed an accusing finger at him. " _L-La dame… Où est-elle?!_ Where is that lady?!"

"He's right," piped up Della, joining the boy at his side. "You did something to her! She couldn't have just disappeared that fast! So just tell us where Malèna is!"

The man's composure slowly returned to him, his face turning smug and cold as his arms crossed. "Where… do you think," he asked coolly. But when the two tried to approach, he hurriedly said," Watch your feet! If you step on her, you'll kill her…"

 _Step on her? What do you mean..?_ She looked around the bathroom, but there was no sight of her. The only evidence of her even being in the same room as them was her camisole left on the floor. But when she looked at it, she felt a cold dread in her heart. She knew what was under there. She just knew. He had done it to her as well. Cautiously, she approached the pile and lifted the hem of the fabric. Laying inside, shrunken and slimy like an uncooked chicken…

Was Malèna, regressed to a fetus.

The man wiped off the blood off his neck, still looking and sounding smug "All who cross my Divine Sethan's shadow… will steadily grow younger. In both your cases, because you noticed my attack and jumped out of the way in an instant, you ages regressed to… I'd say seven, eight years old…" His smile then widened maniacally, excitement spilling into his voice. But this woman stood in my shadow for at least a dozen seconds! She's turned into a fetus! AH HA HA HA HA!

 _This guy's so sick_ , thought Della, both disgusted and horrified. _How can anyone enjoy this kind of stuff..? He's not normal, no matter what he might think..!_

"It's alive for now, but since she's not in her mother's body, that fetus will obviously die! This woman… just seeing you and getting involved is why she's frying now! Such a stupid bitch!"

Della had enough. She aimed All My Love's Fist at him and started to blow a large bubble at the end of it. "She did nothing wrong," she growled. "She didn't deserve this..! We're the ones you want, not her..! You… You… You..!"

"Hm? Me what?" He leaned in with a cup ear. "Tell me, Della? Or are you so angry that you can't think of anything witty to say?"

"You… are a horrible monster!" The bubble shot straight for him, but he kept his teasing posture. He must have thought it wouldn't do anything, given how her previous bubbles barely fazed him. But not this time. The bubble exploded against his face and knocked him against the wall. She then shouted, "Now! Grab her and let's go!" Jean Pierre scooped up the tiny bundle where Malèna rested and ran out with Della. Not far behind was their attacker, scrambling to his feet and giving chase.

"Jean Pierre, we gotta find a way to beat him faster," she said frantically, running out into the living room of the house. "If we don't, Malèna will die!"

"I-I know," he panted as he cradled the clothes close to him. "She took care of us… This lady was so kind and gentle to us… We… We have to save her..!"

"And we will! Just come on!"

Their little feet could barely outrun their attacker, who cackled and hounded them through the house like a mad hyena. "Why's running and protecting a dying fetus that important to you both," he shouted after them. "Especially when I can do the same to you?!"

Nobody needed to look behind them to sense the creeping shadow of Sethan shooting after them. Della sidestepped out of the way, but Jean Pierre could barely do the same. His body shrunk a bit more, losing several more years. He was probably a four year-old now. "O-Oh no," he squeaked as they rounded a corner. He nearly stumbled, one of his earrings falling off. "W-We gotta hide! He got me!"

"YAHOO," screeched the man as he skidded behind them. "Oh, this is fun! At this rate, victory will be mine!"

All My Love shot more bubbles from behind, but they barely stopped his advance. The two soon came upon a room and swiftly ducked into it. It was small, containing only a clock, a fish tank and lamp on a small table, a teddy bear, a mirror, a bucket and broom, and-

"A window," pointed out Della. "Quick, lock the door!"

While Jean Pierre locked the door, she set up the bucket and climbed up to the windowsill. There was no glass, but there were bars. She could barely fit her arm through the gaps, and there was no way she could break or bend them with her Stand. It was like they had entered a jail cell. Behind her, she could hear more cackling and the jiggling of the door handle. "Locking the door's useless," he taunted. "I can still get in!"

 _We can't hide anywhere_ , she thought worriedly. _If we go in the clock or even the bear, that guy will just tear it up with his axe! The tank won't do anything… Oh man, do we just try to fight? Can we even-_

" _Oi, Joutarou!_ "

Someone's voice reached the room from outside. Looking out onto the streets, she saw a sight that made her heart skip a beat. It was the youth in navy blue, but it was someone else's voice who called out in that strange language. She could hear him approaching and asking, " _Min'na doko ka?_ "

"W _akaranai_ ," replied the youth to the man who ran into view. He was tan with messy hair, a black tank top and dark jeans. He was also joined by a little black and white dog. Both looked very exhausted. " _Dera to Porunarefu o sagashiteita. Dokoni itaka?_ "

" _Sutando tsukaitachi. Shikashi, sarani futatsuarida… Soshite, karerawa ima, tanin o tsuikyuushiteimasu!_ "

" _Yare yare daze_ ," muttered the youth, pulling the cap over his eyes. " _Yoshi. Oretachiwa sorera o mitsukeru hitsuyouda._ "

" _Hayaku, hayaku!_ " He then began to hurriedly call out "Della! Jean Pierre!" into the streets. She knew he was talking about them, and she wanted to get his attention. _But I don't know his name! Neither of them! And if I try, what's to say he'll recognize us! They can't help, but we need them to!_

And then, Della caught a glimpse of his face as he passed by He had a chiseled, mature look, and his eyes were a bright blue that blazed with both care and mischief. He might be an adult, but she knew whose face it belonged to. She might have forgotten in her adulthood, but she certainly didn't forget it now. That face belonged to-

"LOBO," she screamed through the gap of the bars. "LOBO, WE'RE UP HERE!"

The man, who recognized his nickname, quickly looked up and went pale the moment his eyes landed on her at the window. "Della," he shouted back, and he immediately jumped up to the window. Grabbing onto the bars, he looked in and was shocked to see the state they were in. "Oh god, that Alessi got you, didn't he?"

He must have been referring to their attacker. "Yes, yes! We're trapped! He's on the other side of the door! And he turned us into kids with his shadow! There's a lady, too! He turned her into a fetus! Please, help us!"

"Alright, hold on!" A pair of black-gloved hands grabbed the bars just as there was a splintering at the door. Della looked back to see the so-called Alessi cutting into the door with his axe. Meanwhile, Lobo was growling and pulling with all his might. The bars were bending in his grip before he broke them off and pulled two more. By the time those came off, the door was cut through by the axe, leaving behind a jagged hole for Alessi's ugly face and wriggling tongue to peek through

"Heeere's Alessi," he taunted. "Here I come, ki-"

He stopped when he saw Lobo tearing into the room like a raging beast. With a frightened scream, he lot his bravado and ran away from the door. But he wasn't going to get away. Lobo and his Stand, a slick, pale-gold boxer, punched the door off its hinges and sent it slamming into Alessi. With the attacker down, he approached him and stepped onto the broken door, which let out a pained squeal from beneath.

"Alright, enough games," he said with authority. "Turn every one of them back, or I will beat you to death. Understand?"

When there came no answer, he pushed down hard on the door and made Alessi yelp in more pain. "O-Okay! Okay! Get off! I'll do it! I'll turn them back to adults! I swear!"

He was exactly as Della remembered, that caring, charming boy who befriended her. His seriousness and bravery shone through as bright as it did all those years ago when he defended her murdered family. She admired him for these qualities back then, and seeing them once again made her heart swell. _Oh, Lobo_ , she thought with a sigh. _If only I was older… I would kiss you so hard…_

"And I swear to god, if you use your Stand against me," warned Lobo as he yanked his prey to his feet by his suspenders, "I will knock you back a few years myself. Do you understand?"

"O-Okay," gasped Alessi. "Okay! Look, I'm doing it!"

His shadow blinked several times. Before they knew it, Della, Jean Pierre, and Malèna began to grow back to their normal sizes and ages. All of her memories came flooding back to her, from her teenage years to the hectic adventure that was her adulthood. And it was now that she remembered that Lobo was none other than her best friend and lover Joaquín. Her Jojo.

"Y-You did it," she happily cried out. "Oh, thank God, Jojo, you did it!"

"Where were you, anyway, asked Jean Pierre ad he set the passed out Malèna gently on the floor. "Last I heard, you were chasing after some thieves, right?"

"Stand users," he said shortly, grabbing and holding onto a fistful of their former attacker's wing-like hair. Alessi looked absolutely pathetic now that he wasn't hovering over them like a vulture. "They told me you guys and Abuelito were being chased by two other Stand users: Mariah, who has a magnetizing Stand, _y este tonto_. I saw the others just as they crushed the girl with a bunch of magnetized junk, so I wasn't too worried."

"Your timing couldn't have come sooner."

"You're damn right. So, you guys wanna get your clothes back on?"

The excitement of being back to normal made Della forget that she was standing naked in front of three men, one of which was naked as well. On realizing this, she covered herself and ran out to the bathroom where her clothes were. She grabbed them and immediately changed away from Jean Pierre, who wasn't as perturbed about his nudity. Her mind was set about who she would rather see her naked, and it definitely wasn't the Frenchman.

When they both returned to Jojo, Joutarou had joined his older brother in the little room. They had cornered the now cowering Alessi, who was so scared that he couldn't muster up anything to bargain with.

"So, are we going to send him to the hospital," asked Jean Pierre as they approached.

"We gotta aim it right if we wanna land him a room there," answered Joutarou plainly.

"We were too lenient on him when he turned us to kids," pointed out Della, whose eyes bore into the whimpering man.

"Then let's make doubly sure we don't hold back." said Jojo with a smirk.

All of their Stands, including the now adult Silver Chariot and All My Love, greeted Alessi with glowering smiles. All four of them pummeled into him with their fists and sword, letting out their frustrations on this man for all he put them through. With one last blow, they sent him fling out the window into the streets. Whether he landed in a hospital or not didn't matter.

Alessi was retired.

~+JO*JO+~

Several things happened after the encounter.

The first of which was Malèna catching up to the group as they left, looking for both Della and Jean Pierre. Or rather, the children that looked like them. She said nothing to her, but her eyes expressed her silent gratitude for the hospitality. The Frenchman, however, denied seeing any children. When Malèna pushed him more, even showing off his missing earring he left behind, he reassured her sternly that they were foreigners and have never seen her in their life. And why he did it was clear.

He wanted to protect her. Her getting involved with them would only endanger her life again. Jean Pierre would rather die than see that happen again.

"Not a word, guys," he choked as they walked off. "Not a word."

Reflecting on everything that had happened during their escapade, Della grew to respect Jean Pierre more. He wasn't the best at times, like when he shows off for women, but he was a very wonderful and courageous man. Not to mention selfless when it came to others' well beings. He reminded him of Jojo in some way. Were she not taken, she would probably have grown to love him. But instead, she had grown to see him as someone she could look up to. Someone she always wanted in her life.

A brother.

The second thing was their reunion with Mr. Joestar and Mr. Avdol, who had returned from their fight with Mariah and Goddess Bastet. By the time they had cleaned up and sat down at a diner, it was already lunch time. They took this opportunity to tell each other of their battles, relax, and, most importantly, use Joseph's camera again. They were so close to Cairo now that a thoughtograph would greatly help them locate Dio's whereabouts.

And sure enough, with a non-shattering strike to the Polaroid with Hermit Purple, Joseph was able to procure a photograph of their final destination. It was a tower belonging to some old building, walled off from society. It was almost like a metaphor of sorts, with the wall blocking their way. But Della was certain that they will break through and finally reach the man who had caused too much pain and suffering to too many lives.

And the third thing was the horrible news they were leaving town:

"I just phoned Japan… My daughter's condition has worsened… Her strength is already reaching its limits… She only has four.. maybe five more days left…"

The shock was felt through all of them. _It's almost too late_ , Della thought worriedly. _We've wasted more time since we got to Egypt… If we dawdle any longer…_

"Then we need to get a move on," said Jojo seriously, his eyes burning with their usual determination. "Mom wouldn't want us to just mope and kick ourselves. She'd want us to keep going. Now let's go! Cairo awaits!"

It wasn't the biggest speech, but it certainly was motivating. _He's right. There's no stopping now. We've come too far... Holly's life can still be saved… And we'll see it through that it is!_ With her heart steeled and her will resolved, Della held her head high like her friends and made their way to the train that would take them to their destiny.

To Cairo.

To Dio.

~+JO*JO+~

"Damn... It's so dark… Can't see a thing… Where is that sonovabitch, anyway..? 'S damn near hard to find him in this mansion… I'm certain that room was over here somewhere… The one Dio's in…

"Hm..? What in… These're Dio's… leftovers… Blegh..! These girls sure weren't unwilling to let this guy suck their blood… I don't get their mentality..! Then again… he's got the devil's charm… What a terrible man, that Dio… Plus, all these treasures and artwork… How's he able to get this crap, wherever and whenever he wants it? It's like there's nothin' this guy can't do…"

"What… do you want..?"

"Huh..? Dio..!

"... m-my lord…"

"What do you want..? I'm listening, Hol Horse…"

"Er… Uh… U-Um… R-Reportin' to you… The seventh, eight, ninth and tenth of the Nine Glorious Gods, the Thompson siblings, Mariah and Alessi… have just been defeated earlier…"

"...

"... And..?"

"... A-And… that's my report… The Joestar group'll arrive in Cairo tomorrow… where the last four of the gods are…"

"I said and… because of _you_ , Hol Horse…"

"Huh..?!"

"When will you go and defeat them for me… Hol Horse..? You _say_ you swear allegiance to me… and yet you haven't gone to fight them at all…"

"I-I've fought-"

"Do not lie to Dio, Hol Horse… You fled when both J. Geil and his mother Enya were defeated by the Joestar group. In fact… if I remember correctly… you fought back _against_ Enya… alongside Joaquín…"

"I-I didn't… She was… W-What about that girl, Lennox?! All she's done is sit around, give you reports and mope around like some-"

"Still your tongue and show your respect towards her…"

"Y-Yessir…"

"...

"Lennox is an exception… Her Stand and her body are completely unfit for combat… Even if she so chose to, I daren't send her to fight for me… She is also like me, a vampire… Yet despite these shortcomings, I keep her… She is excellent company, for one… And for another, her Stand is useful…you may say it is flawed… And you are correct… Her Stand is a one-way bridge of transportation, but it is also a bridge of communication… You should know this by now…

"Every report I have received came through her Stand… Sometimes, if others are too busy, she herself will relay news to me… She may not enjoy it… she may hate me with every fibre of her being for making her serve me, but she does continue to do so… And she has shown more loyalty to me than you have as of late. Were it not for you, _she_ would have reported to me of those four's loss…

"What I'm saying, Hol Horse, is that _anyone_ can be an information liaison… But there is a difference between you and him… While Sinatra has shown undying loyalty… you… have not… You have failed me twice… And then you fled… and dared to return to me…"

"..!

"...

"..?"

"From the neck down is the body belonging to a man named Jonathan Joestar. He was once Joseph Joestar's grandfather. Look at my fingers… See how the left heals its wound slower..? The left side of my body is weak. _This_ is proof that I am still not completely used to it…I am not invulnerable… I am still unprepared to face my foes… This time, please kill the Joestars for me…

"Otherwise… I _will_ kill you…

"...

"Well… What're you waiting for..? Hurry up and go…

"...

"Are you really going to shoot me..?"

"H-Huh?! H-He's gone…"

"I like that…"

"...!"

"At that moment, when you were about to kill me… you didn't break a sweat… and your breathing had an undisturbed calmness to it… Just as I'd expect from you… Hol Horse…"

"...

"...I-I couldn't see his m-movements..! A-And even if I could… there was no way he could get behind me without breakin' the cobwebs..! It wasn't speed… So how..?! How did he get behind me..?! I don't get it… Just now… Was that Dio's Stand, The World..?! And he said he ain't ready to fight the Joestars..?! That's bullshit..!"

"But I… f-finally… I understand, Lord Dio… What more can I do… but to follow you to the bitter end…

"You… c-completely beat me…"

~MARIAH: RETIRED~

~ALESSI: RETIRED~

* * *

I hate Alessi as a character, but he was pretty nice to write. Plus his Stand, despite being used to fuel his creepy nature, isn't that bad. A shadow that can de-age? He's got a literal fountain of youth! He could make some mad money off of that. But, he chose a life of crime. He'll never know what it's like to help others with his Stand.

As for Malèna, I actually named her Lori for a bit. I changed it back because I honestly had no idea she was given a name. Just something I wanted to point out.

So I had to go back and fix a bit during the end involving this Lennox character. I was gonna make her a separate character like Enya, but I changed that to fit better with something I had in mind down the road. So what's her relation to Dio? Why does he keep her, if not for her Stand? You'll have to keep reading to find out. Her Stand was made as a way to explain how Dio's assassin's have been able to get to the group so quickly. And how Dio's been able to find out if they failed or not. I felt that little thing should have been better explained in the story proper.


	34. Let's Go Forward

Funny thing, really. Three things happened that kinda hindered my progress on this. First, work. It's life, you know? Gotta make a living. Second, it's InkTober! If you wanna check out my work, check out hen_valor on Instagram. All the drawings are Jojo-based, so you readers might enjoy that. And third, I had to split this chapter into two. If I left it as is and finished it, it would have been much longer than other chapters I've put up. Hopefully nobody minds. With that said, enjoy reading and have yourselves a good October!

* * *

Ch. 34  
Let's Go Forward

JANUARY 13TH, 1989  
17:10  
CAIRO, EGYPT

"What walks on four legs in the morning, two at noon, and three in the evening?"

It was a question Mohamed asked everyone out of the blue. They had been relaxing in their seats as they took their train towards Cairo. At the moment, they were passing three immense pyramids in the distance: the pyramids of Giza. Somewhere close by was the giant structure of a sphinx that guarded them.

"That's an easy one," said Joaquín. "It's man, starting from infancy to old age."

"You are correct. This is the question asked to all travelers who crossed the sphinx, who continues to protect the pyramids of Giza to this day. Legends say that those who cannot answer the sphinx were killed and eaten."

"Don't tell me they believe that now," asked Jean Pierre, who was fixing his hair next to the fortuneteller. His question garnered a bark-like laugh from Mohamed, which made some other passengers jump and look bewildered at him.

"Oh, of course not! In this day and age, parents use it as a story to scare their children. And to serve as a subtle warning to not plunder from these titanic structures." He sighed and looked out the window. "Then again, legends never stopped thieves before. Like us."

The others gave him a rather confused look. "What do you mean by that," asked Della.

"We are thieves, in a sense. While we are travelling to save the life of Ms. Holly, we are also, in essence, travelling to steal the life of another. We are thieves, and Dio is the pyramid we are about to plunder. Before we can reach him, there are a few more sphinxes we must pass through."

It was an interesting analogy. They _were_ thieves. All throughout their journey, they had faced traps, tricks, and sphinxes that hindered them. And they passed through them all just to get to their goal, even stealing several lives along the way. But unlike the men who dug within their homeland's catacombs out of greed, they were thieves with a selfless cause. They were saving and avenging the lives of, including that of Holly Kuujou.

"We've only got a handful of them left," stated Joaquín. "Four, right? Let's see… Nut, Osiris, Atum, and… And… Wait a minute…" He thought for a moment about the so-called Nine Glorious Gods of Egypt and the Ennead. We took down, what, ten, right?" Everyone around him nodded. "But Della said there was fourteen. I only count three when there's supposed to be four left. Who's the fourth? Mohamed, you have any ideas?"

Mohamed stood silent for a moment before saying, "Well, in some versions of the mythology of the Ennead, the god Horus I included among them as the tenth god. Perhaps the Stand representing him is the last of the four left for us to tackle."

"Hmm… That would make sense. But we won't know until we run into him. And kick his ass."

"Are we nearly there yet," asked an impatient Joseph, who was adjusting his fedora. "The sooner we get there, the sooner we can start looking for the building."

"A _buelito_ , you can't be serious, right?" He turned to face him, sitting in the other row next to Joutarou. "I mean… we'll be in enemy territory. It's already sunset right now. By the time we actually start looking, we'll be in greater danger than in broad daylight. Dio's a vampire. He thrives in the night. And he could be anywhere in the city. The minute he sniffs us out in his domain, he'll pick us off before we could even react.

"Now, I'm all for wanting to start looking immediately. We're on a very tight time constraint… Mom.. Mom's only got a few days left. Three to four days, now, given that today's ending… But we gotta be smart about this. We can't stay in Cairo for too long."

Joutarou, who had remained silent since they received the awful news, agreed with him. "He's right. We should start looking tomorrow, as early as we can. We spend the day in Cairo and leave around or before sunset. And we certainly cannot stay in the city overnight. We get a hotel somewhere on the outside."

"Good call, Joutarou," said Mohamed, impressed by his train of thought. "We can book a hotel in Giza. While we are still at risk, it is still safer than staying within Cairo."

After several minutes, the train slowly started to lose speed. The cabin's P.A. system turned on to announce, "We are now approaching Ramses Station. Everyone remain seated until we have come to a full stop."

"We're here," said Della to her boyfriend in a whisper.

"Cairo," he whispered back. His heart began to beat hard in his chest with anticipation. They had travelled very far from country to country just to reach this city. Their adventure was slowly drawing to a close, and yet, it was far from over. One final obstacle lied in wait for them… The man he and his family were destined to fight… "God, this is it…"

"Is everyone ready for this," asked Joseph seriously. Everyone nodded in response. Even Iggy, who rested in Della's lap, huffed in agreement. They had been ready from the moment they departed Luxor. "Good... Let's keep our heads high and our bodies braced… Don't lose faith… And never give up…"

Their train eventually came to a proper stop. Everyone had grabbed their belongings and disembarked into the station. It was packed with all the natives and tourists coming and going, but they had no time to spend here among them. Joseph took a moment to make a call and joined the others as they walked outside. "I called the Speedwagon Foundation to take us out of the city. They've set up base outside Cairo and are still trying to investigate Dio's whereabouts."

"They have the picture, right," asked Della.

"Not yet. I'll ask them if they could make copies, too."

"Do they have a medical team with them," asked Joaquín this time. "I know it sounds weird, but given that we're gonna be fighting Dio at some point-"

"Oh, yes. No need to worry about that. They made sure they came well equipped. Of course, they can't fix my hand, if that's what you're wondering. The men who build my hand are back in America. But everything else, from stitching to resuscitation, these men can handle it all."

A van soon showed up, and while it bore no SPWF mark on it, one of its employees greeted them and took their luggage. They then drove out of the city a good distance until they were in the outskirts of another one. Giza, according to Mohamed. The plan for tomorrow was to have them be picked up after breakfast and taken back to Cairo to start their search. Until then, they bid their driver farewell, grabbed their bags and walked into the less-dangerous streets towards a hotel.

Along the way, Joaquín noticed that, among everyone else, Mohamed did not look too happy to have been back in Cairo, even for a moment. "Hey, is everything okay," he asked him. "You don't look like yourself."

Mohamed sighed and spoke in a somber tone. "I had anticipated the day I would return to my home. But at the same time, I was not looking forward to it. I do not know if any of you felt it when we arrived, but the station… the city itself… it did not feel the same as it did when I encountered Dio… His evil… It is everywhere…

"That's why we can't stay there for long. Because I knew his power had spread there. And given that he probably spent all four years of his revival there…"

"My home… how could I have been so… so cowardly to leave it in the hands of that monster..?"

"Nobody here thinks you're a coward. Not even Jean Pierre." The Frenchman in question gave him a nervous smirk, having called him out for this in the past. "You're one of the bravest out of all of us. Not to mention the smartest. Any one of us would have charged him. You didn't. You ran away to fight another day. And you coming back here, ready to face Dio again, is the bravest thing you can do."

To his surprise, a tear escaped from the fortuneteller's eye. Mohamed wiped it and gave out an almost choked, "Thank you, Joaquín."

Della touched his shoulder and assured him, "We'll free Cairo together, Mohamed. We can do it."

"I truly appreciate your sympathy. I should not dwell on this. After all, we have a grand task ahead of us tomorrow…"

~+JO*JO+~

And grand it was.

After a good night's rest and a hearty breakfast, the SPWF brought the group back to the outskirts of Cairo where they had begun their search. The foundation had made copies of the photograph left to them by Joseph, which would ease their search. It wouldn't make it easier, especially when they received this bit of news:

"We returned to the site where those nine individuals gathered," their driver told them. "Unfortunately, it had been completely cleared out. There's little evidence that it was inhabited, but otherwise, there's nothing there. We assume that Dio has changed locations since that gathering, and that the photograph you gave us is his current hideout."

So it was back to square one. Now the Speedwagon Foundation had lost sight of his whereabouts, and the only hint they had rested in Joseph's hands. They needed to find this building quickly. Holly had only at least three days left. They could not waste any more time. The minute they arrived into the city, they split into groups of two and three: Joaquín and Della, Joseph and Joutarou, and Jean Pierre, Mohamed and Iggy.

"There's a cafe right outside the city," Joseph said before they split. "Let's meet up outside the city around 4:30 and head out from there. Good luck, everyone."

The day was spent as they would have expected. They traveled through the city asking one stranger after another where the building in the photograph they showed them was. The answers were just as expected:

"I've never seen it before," said a teenage girl.

"Sorry, I cannot help you," said an elderly man.

"If you're not going to buy anything, then leave," said an irritable shopkeeper.

For some reason, nobody they approached could help them. Not even the elderly, who would have more knowledge about the labyrinthine city. Either they have truly never seen it before, couldn't differentiate it from other, similarly-structured buildings in the area, or there was something more sinister behind it all. Mohamed's words from last night rang in his head. Dio's evil was everywhere, something he slightly felt throughout the search. Perhaps he had anticipated them searching.

Perhaps he bribed the people of Cairo into not sharing any information with them.

"Do you really think Dio's that paranoid," asked Della when he told her this around lunchtime. They had topped in a cafe in the city for some sandwiches, and even during their break, they did not stop asking people about the building. Still nobody knew.

"Of course he would," said Joaquín, gulping down a bite of his meal. "He's the kind of man who has sent babies to kill us, assassins to silence other subordinates… Nothing is below this monster. That includes making sure our search was harder than it ought to be. But… At the same time, maybe his new hideout isn't a place people often visit."

"Maybe it's just an exclusive place. Like, they have to invited to even know about it."

Joaquín scoffed. "Like some Club Dio?"

"Maybe."

"Hm. Wouldn't that be something. We just find the place and it's some nightclub filled with blood, naked ladies and one pissed-off vampire DJ."

The two laughed at the stupid joke, the first genuine laugh they had since they arrived in Cairo. Given the stress they were under and how tired they were starting to feel, humor was a very welcome change of pace. After calming down, Joaquín finished his meal and said, "You know… when we go back to New York… What're you gonna do about your job at the antique store? You still wanna work there?"

"Well…" His girlfriend looked thoughtful for a moment. "I don't know. Maybe. I mean, I do wanna launch a writing career. That's not changed. But I don't wanna leave Adam on his own. He's been getting along in years. He hasn't been able to run his store the way he used to back then.

"Of course. Can't stop aging. That's something that can't be fought, even with _hamon_. If he's really getting that weak, maybe you can talk him into retirement. Maybe sell the antique store, or just sell the antiques. Like a closing sale."

"Would that even work? If he does retire, I'd like to know that he's got enough money to live through his retirement without having to worry."

He nodded. "I believe so. Or maybe he can pawn them off. There's bound to be something among those _baratijas_ that have incredible value. I mean, those paintings of Cajiga alone can fetch a lot if they're originals. It's worth looking into."

"I guess you're right. We won't know until we go back."

"Speaking of all that, what about your writing career? Have you thought more about those two stories?"

"Mhm. Most nights. I've been making notes every now and then and expand on what kinds of stories I wanna make. On top of that, well… I've been thinking…" She looked a little embarrassed now, as if what she had to say next was almost shameful.

"Thinking about what? Hey…" He reached over and patted her shoulder consolingly. "Whatever you have planned, there's nothing to worry about. I'll support you, Della."

"You won't get mad at what I wanna do?"

"No."

It wasn't much relief, but she continued on anyways. "I actually wanna write about this adventure… When it's all over, of course."

 _Huh… That's pretty unexpected_ , he thought. _I thought she was gonna say she wanted to write some smut or something… A book about all this… That sounds rather interesting…_

"Jojo, asked Della. "What do you think?

"Huh," he asked back, ripped from his thoughts. "Oh, sorry, I was just thinking. Uh, yeah, that's actually pretty cool. But, uh, if you were to do that, would you change some of the names and events? I think it'd be better if it wasn't exactly based on a true story."

"Of course. That's what I had in mind. I've been thinking about this back during the submarine trip. A book that everyone can enjoy, one that'll leave people hanging off every word, shocked by every twist, and laugh at every joke. All while leaving some things left unsaid or changed. Only we would know what truly happened these past almost fifty days."

"I'd like to keep it that way. So, do you have a title?"

She nodded. "How does Jojo's Bizarre Adventure sound?"

"A bit on the nose," he answered with a smirk. "That and if I'm the main character of this, I don't wanna be named Jojo. Use something else like… Antonio Belmondo? It was the name of my _abuelita_ 's dad and her mother's maiden name. As for the book itself…" He leaned back in his chair for a moment as he rattled off some names. "Heritage for the Future? A Bizarre, Egyptian Adventure? The Undead God? Starbound Crusaders? Lost-"

"Wait!" Her eyes widened as she leaned over to him.. "What was that last one?"

"What, Starbound Crusaders?"

Della silently mouthed those words for a moment before looking back at him excitedly. "Stardust Crusaders! That's perfect! Damn, I wish I had a notebook to write this down!"

"That actually sounds like a wonderful title," said a smiling Joaquín before finishing his sandwich. "And it'll be as crazy as this whole trip. I can't wait for it all to be over."

"As am I. So, you ready to get back out their and sweat our butts off?"

He was. With their moods lightened and their stomachs full, they left their money at the table before leaving back into the hot streets of Cairo. Of course, they continued to have horrible luck as they did before. Joaquín made it a point not to ask the same people twice if they happened to cross them, just out of kindness. _But if we don't find it soon_ , thought Joaquín, _then it may just have to come down to that._

About two hours later, after asking some other cooperative shop owners that couldn't help them, the two had bumped into Joutarou and Joseph on their way out. "Oh, hey guys. So hows it going on your end?"

"No luck," grumbled Joseph, who looked thoroughly annoyed with something.

"We've been getting nowhere today," said Joutarou. "I suggested to _jijii_ that he take another thoughtograph of the building. Just so we could try and get a better angle of it."

"Do you have the pictures," asked Della. Rather than just handing them normally, Joseph simply took them out of his pocket and flung it carelessly before them. She knelt down and looked through them, soon standing up with some confusion on her face. "Wait… I don't get it, did you do something wrong? These aren't developed."

Joseph crossed his arms and huffed. "Oh, they are. Trust me. I've tried five times with my Polaroid. I even broke it, just to see if putting more power into the strike would generate a better photo. But all I've gotten back was crap. Normally, it would take a minute or so for an image to come up. Not this time."

"That doesn't sound normal," said Joaquín curiously. "What about a TV? I know it's risky, but have you thought-"

"I did," interrupted his grandfather. "And still, nothing came up. All I got for my efforts was static and an angry shopkeeper. It doesn't make sense…"

"No, it doesn't… A Stand's power shouldn't really crap out like that… My guess is that there's something else at work. Like, maybe since you're already here, Dio's caught on to what you're doing and blocked off the link between you both."

"But I'm not taking a photo of him or trying to read out his plans!"

"But you _are_ trying to find him. And I think that's enough cause for him to put up a barrier. I know it sounds weird, but it's all I could think of that would make sense."

His grandfather didn't look like he wanted to believe it, but he was right. "God damnit," he growled, convinced by his grandson's theory. "It would… So now our only means of getting a better view of that bastard's hiding spot is gone. It probably won't work again until we deal with him."

"It's okay, _Abuelito_ ," reassured Joaquín, patting his back. "Don't let this eat you up. We just keep doing what we've been doing and keep searching. Cairo's big, but it's not that big. We can find it. Let's keep at it, okay?"

Their search didn't last too long. Hours had passed until it was finally time to leave Cairo. The sun was already in the east, and staying any longer was tantamount to suicide. The group had reunited in the outskirts and did one last sweep for information before they left. As expected, nothing came of it either. But the group was not disheartened. Especially Joaquín.

"I'm not gonna give up," he told the others as they waked out of Cairo. "Dio might have gotten lucky by changing locations, but his luck can only last so long… Eventually we will find him… And he will pay…"

Before they had left, a call was made to the SPWF for a truck they could use to travel back and forth between the cities. The foundation workers did not mind taking them themselves, but Joseph insisted to just borrow a vehicle so as not to impede their own investigation. Sure enough, when they were out of Cairo, there was a truck left for them and a note wishing them luck.

"They really are indebted to you, aren't they," said Jean Pierre as he hopped inside.

"They're more indebted to my family," answered Joseph, taking the wheel and driving off once they were all in. "Back then, my uncle Speedwagon was a London thug who loved to explore the world. He was tough, but he had a heart of gold. That man could sense good and evil in anyone's hearts. In that day and age, there was plenty of evil in the world. And he had spent most of his life seeing the rich as corrupt and selfish. Of course that all changed when he met Jonathan.

"When he first met my grandfather, he came to learn that he wasn't like all the snobby, greedy aristocrats he knew, but a pure-hearted, selfless man who was unafraid to lose his fingers if it meant saving his own father. Speedwagon came to admire him. He became his partner and closest friend until the day he died. Since then, he followed his example and paid it forward to people other than himself."

"That's where the Foundation comes in," said Joaquín. He started to feel some admiration to this Speedwagon. A simple act of kindness turned this man's life around to not only help the family of his best friend, but to benefit mankind. He would have loved to meet him.

"That's right. At the turn of the century, he came to America and crossed Texan deserts. He soon dug up an oil field and became one of the world's leading millionaires. With his his amassed wealth, he put all of his personal assets into medicinal advancement and wildlife preservation all around the world. Thus, the Speedwagon Foundation was founded in 1910, becoming a world-renowned, demilitarized biomedical research organization.

"But, as I'm sure you're aware, there is more to the Foundation than medicine. Back then, Speedwagon was researching the stone mask, the beings who created them, and the monsters they spawned. The "Supernatural Phenomenon Department" is the one that spearheads any and all investigations regarding the paranormal. Like vampires, Stands-"

" _El chupacabra_ ," asked Joaquín.

" _Kappa_ ," asked Joutarou, who seemed genuinely curious.

"Bigfoot," Della added sarcastically.

"No, no, no," denied Joseph, letting himself chuckle at the insinuation that they hunted after cryptids. "Thus far, it's only been on the undying and Stands, but they have been looking into ghosts. But they're the ones that have been helping us the throughout our adventure. And so long as the company stands, they will continue to aid the Joestar family whenever they're in need. Such is the last will and testament of Robert E. O. Speedwagon."

His explanation of the SPWF's founding and purpose seemed to leave an impression on everyone. Even Joutarou looked as if he had some new-found respect for the man they all owed their life to. They spent the next several minutes before they arrived at the small, Giza cafe, a sort of tourist sight with the pyramids standing silently in the distance. There were only a handful of people inside, each one relaxing in the heat and drinking.

"We still have a chance to ask around for the building," said Joseph as they entered. "Show these people the photo, but don't badger them. And ask for them back when you're done. We're running low on them. I've got some calls to make."

As his grandfather went to the phone, Joaquín and the others walked around the bar and once again asked the same questions to the patrons. Unfortunately, not even they could point out where the building was. At this point, they gave up for the day, vowing to continue their search tomorrow.

" _Nobody_ knows where it is," grumbled Joaquín as he reached the bar with the others. "How the hell is this even possible…We've spent all day scouring the city… And I know we're all exhausted." The others seemed to not and grunt in agreement. "Someone's gotta know something… _Someone_..."

"Cairo has a population of six million and two to three million buildings alone," said Mohamed plainly. "Our search was never going to be easy. However you do have a point, Joaquín. Certainly… Someone must know. There is no way somebody has not seen this building at some point in their lives."

It was around this time Joseph had come to the bar, a grim look on his face as he rested his hands together on the counter. They all gathered to him, waiting to hear the bad news he undoubtedly heard over the phone.

"It's gotten more urgent. I called the Speedwagon team here. They've made no breakthroughs. Their luck is about as bad as ours. On top of that, my Hermit Purple has failed to make a new photograph ever since I took one of the building. Joaquín has surmised that Dio might have put up some type barrier between our link to him. Nothing works… And… I also called Japan… Holly…" The poor man swallowed before revealing Holly's current fate.

"Holly has fallen into a coma last night."

It was getting worse. Holly was truly in her last stages. Joaquín felt sick to his stomach. His mother, who he had just reunited with, was dying. A part of him wanted to forsake his mission and return to her in her last moments. But the greater part of him burned with the desire to set things right and save her. With an edge to his voice, he said, "Waiting around for a miracle won't save her… It's like I said the other day… She'd want us to keep going… No matter what."

Joutarou, ever stoic and not showing how deep the news had affected him, had spoken up and said, "Mom won't be alone, though… While we're here, she'll have company who won't leave her side. They're doing all they can to help. The Speedwagon doctors… and Suzie _obaasan_."

While everyone had been hospitalized from the fight with Nephthys and Anubis, Joseph's wife Suzie had left New York to visit her daughter in Japan. She didn't know what her daughter or husband was going through, but in her heart, she knew something was wrong. She had decided to stay with Holly and keep her company, believing in her family that all will be okay. They had discovered this around the same time they were recovering, although Joaquín didn't speak to his grandmother.

"You're both right," he said quietly, giving his grandsons a reassuring smile. "Holly won't be alone… None of you worry about that… We'll all do our part to help her." He then turned to the bartender. "Excuse me, sir?"

The bald, mustached man behind the counter stopped cleaning his cups and approached them. "Welcome, foreign travelers," he courteously greeted. "How may I help you?"

"Yes, there's something we have to ask you." Joseph set down one of the photos. "We've been looking for the building in this photograph. Have you seen it?"

He didn't even look at it. His gaze at the group was stony, but not at all malevolent. "My foreign guests… This is a cafe. Please order something first."

"Ah, you're right. Six iced teas, please."

As Joseph took out some money to pay for the drinks, the bartender was both pouring their glasses and looking at the photograph. When he had finished, he took the money and turned his back on them. His answer came as no surprise. "I've never seen it before." Without pressing any further, the chugged down their drinks and slammed their glasses on the counter in unison. A sense of unaccomplishment could be felt all throughout, mixing horribly with the news of Holly's condition.

 _We've gotten nowhere today_ , Joaquín thought discontentedly. _And there's a chance we might not get anywhere tomorrow. But we're not stopping. No way in hell… I promise you, Mom…_

"Lets go, everyone," sighed Joseph as he for the others to leave with him. "Let's keep asking."

"That building… I know about it. I've no doubts about at building."

Everyone swiveled back to who spoke. It was a handsome man sitting alone at his own table. He looked like a casino employee with his white shirt and maroon, gold-trimmed vest. His wavy, auburn hair was kept short, and his horseshoe mustache parted in the middle. Along his cheeks were grey strips lined in rows, almost like a snake's underside. He sat with a bottle of unopened scotch and was busy shuffling a deck of cards, which he placed on the table and slid them into a ring.

"W-Was that you," asked Joseph, his voice trembling with hope. "Did you say that just now? We heard someone say that they knew!"

The man nodded and politely answered, "Yes… I said I was certain I knew where that building in the photo is." He sounded as if he came from the western U.S., but his accent was more subdued than that of Hol Horse's.

The entire group lit up and spoke almost at once. "Are you serious," Joseph nearly shouted.

"We are very grateful, sir," thanked Mohamed.

"How lucky are we," exclaimed Jean Pierre. "We've finally found someone who knows that photo's location, and easily, too!"

They were. Perhaps too lucky. But none of them were complaining at all. Joseph showed him the photo and excitedly asked, "Where is it?! Can you tell us where it is?!"

No answer, except for an impressive trick. He tapped one of the cards, and all of them managed to stand up right, like reverse dominoes. They stood upright for a moment before resting their edges on one another, perfect and unmoving. He then asked, "Did you think I would tell you for free?"

"O-Oh, that's my bad." Joseph reached into his pocket and pulled out an Egyptian bill. "I'll pay you ten pounds. So where is it?"

The man chuckled, this time adjusting his sleeve. He then wiggled his hand for a moment before swiping an ace of spades from his sleeve so fast it looked like he drew it from thin air. "I love gambling," he said with a sly smile. "I have an eye for stupid thrills. I can't help but be addicted to it. Well… gambling _is_ how I mostly make my living. How about you? Do you like gambling?"

Joseph's eyebrow raised. "I… don't know what you're getting at."

"If you don't like to bet then please, be honest about it."

"That's why I'm asking, what're you trying to say?"

With a sigh, Joaquín stepped up to his grandfather and said, " _Abuelito,_ isn't it obvious? He wants to make a bet with you."

"And if you win," said the gambler. "I'll tell you the location, free of charge."

"No thanks. We're kinda strapped for time as it is to be making gambles." His eyes fell on the ring of cards for a moment. "Or playing poker. So just take the money and tell us where that building is. You want extra? Here." He pulled out twenty more pounds to add to his grandfather's offer. "Thirty. Take it."

But again, he ignored the money offered to him. "You can make a bet on anything, really. It won't take long. For example… Take a gander at that wall behind me." Looking over the man's shoulder, they could see a grey tabby cat leisurely walking along the top of a short, stone wall outside. The man then took two slices of some smoked meat from a plate on the table and threw them blindly to the dirt behind him.

"Alright! Now, why don't we make a bet on which slice of smoked fish that cat'll go for first? The right? Or the left? Which one'll it be? It might seem boring, but there _is_ a thrill to it."

Jean Pierre finally snapped and voiced everybody's ire at the current situation. "Hey! Look here, you bothersome bastard! Just take the fucking thirty pounds and tell us immediately, you-"

"Relax, Jean Pierre," said Della, resting a gentle hand on his arm. "There's no need to take it out on him."

"She's right," agreed Joaquín, who eyed the man with as much annoyance as the Frenchman. "Look, I don't wanna play along with him as much as you do, but maybe we should. Just do it so we can get that info, okay?"

He looked at his his comrade with a raised, shaved eyebrow and then slammed his hand on the table determinedly. "Okay! I'll call you're bet! He'll take the fish on the right! The right!"

Satisfied, the gambler then said, "Good! Now we'll have some fun. Well then, I bet on the left." Everyone's attention turned back to the cat now, still prowling on its perch. Looking at the two strips of fish, Joaquín had to surmise that it would go for the right. It was more meat than the other strip, which he reasoned was why Jean Pierre chose it. All in all, this looked like a very harmless and boring bet. However, looking at this man, with his confident smile and his icy blue eyes…

"Gentlemen," Mohamed whispered discretely to both him and Joutarou. "Does this man come off as suspicious to any of you..?"

"Just a smidge," replied Joaquín as low as he could. "I mean, he's pretty adamant about all this gambling nonsense. And he won't even take any money. What kind of person won't accept money for information they already know?"

" _He could be an enemy Stand user_ ," pointed out Joutarou. " _Then again, it's just gambling. Maybe he's just a bit crazy._ "

"All the same, boys," the fortuneteller implored. "If this man shows even the slightest sign of something strange, drive your Star Platinum and Preciosa into him."

The brothers silently agreed as they focused on both the gambler and the cat. The latter stopped in its tracks and sniffed the air, turning its attention to the fish laying out in the heat for it. It looked like it was time to see who would win the bet. But then, it occurred to Joaquín that, while they knew what they would win, nobody knew what the man wanted in return if _he_ won.

"By the way," started Jean Pierre with a confident smile. "What do you want if I end up losing? How about a hundred pounds?"

"I don't need any money from you," he said politely. "How about your soul? Your soul will do... Hm hm hm…" The Frenchman clapped his head, perhaps thinking that his bet was utterly stupid. But, even when he halfheartedly agreed to do it, it was an odd wager to make… As this happened, the cat finally bounded off it perch and eyed the pieces of free food before it. "Ah, here it comes," he said in a hushed tone. "Not a sound. And please, restrain the dog."

As odd as it seemed, Iggy didn't need any restraining. He looked at cats with the same disdain they do with uncooperative humans. Joaquín knew this when the two had crossed some cats back in New York. He never glared, raised his hackles, or even barked. Perhaps it was because in some ways, cats could tell Iggy was like them, carefree and uninterested by the differing species.

"Aha," exclaimed Jean Pierre. " _Ce minou va pour le droit!_ " And indeed it was, for the cat had immediately bounded for the right strip of fish. It looked like he was about to win this bet. But, as soon as he had his hopes up, the cat did something absolutely unexpected. It zipped to the left, grabbed the smaller bit of fish, and then zipped to the right to grab the one it was aiming for in the first place. This unnatural act left almost everyone dumbfounded.

The gambler, however, chuckled in amusement. "Well, would you look at that," he said with silky triumph. "Looks like I won."

"Hey, you lost, Polnareff," pointed out Joseph, gripping his shoulder consolingly. "But hey, what can you do? Finding out about this building… Nobody said it wouldn't be troublesome."

"Alright. A promise is a promise. It's time to pay up."

Jean Pierre looked bit befuddled. "Pay..? What are..?"

"The hell do you mean by 'pay'," asked Joaquín, who didn't like where this might go. "With his soul..?"

"Exactly," confirmed the gambler. "His soul. That's what he bet with a while ago. His soul!" His crafty smile did not falter as he spoke with such venomous politeness. "I'm a Stand user that takes away souls! Making bets is what makes human souls easier to take from their bodies! Taking them from there is my Stand's ability!"

It was as Mohamed had warned the brothers. This man was one of Dio's assassins. A Stand user that had lured them into a trap. There was no denying his claim about soul stealing, for when Joaquín was about to go over and beat him, Jean Pierre screamed. Turning around, he and everyone else were met with a horrific sight. The Frenchman's screaming, slightly opaque soul was in the veiny, muscular grip of a purple, alienesque Stand.

Jean Pierre's body, meanwhile, slumped over unconscious onto the table.

"Polnareff," cried out Mohamed as he caught his limp body.

"JEAN PIERRE, NO," screamed Della, as they watched the Stand take him away.

"Now, hold on," announced their enemy, just as the satisfied cat jumped onto his lap. "Don't think about killing me. It's too late for that. If I die, then so too shall Polnareff's soul! If you want to save him, then you have to keep betting with me! Oh, and by the way, this little fella's my cat, Howard."

 _So that's how this bastard won_ , realized Joaquín, whose blood boiled at the deception. _This was all planned! He knew which slice needed to go where and how that cat would take them! He taught him and used him to cheat!_

"My Stand is the Divine Osiris," continued the gambler, smug and cross-legged in his seat. "And my name is Daniel J. D'arby. That's D-A-R-B-Y. The D has an apostrophe after it. Polnareff lost his bet. Therefore, I took his soul."

He turned back to his friend and knelt at his side. His eyes were blank, and he looked completely unresponsive. Joaquín then took his hand and felt for his radial artery on his wrist, pushing two fingers against it once it was found. A moment of silence, and then...

"He's got no pulse," he said quietly. He didn't feel cold. His anger and hatred towards D'arby burned hotter than any dread could chill him. "He's dead… Jean Pierre's dead…"

Meanwhile, Osiris had gotten his suction cup-tipped fingers all over his captured soul and started to compress and mold him like putty. Jean Pierre made one final cry for help before he was nothing but a shapeless lump. The Stand then let go of it and clapped it flat. When it opened its hands, something small dropped onto the table. It was a poker chip with a green and white checkered rim. And in its white center was the resting visage of Jean Pierre Polnareff.

D'arby picked up the chip and showed it to everyone, saying, "This here is Polnareff's soul… I removed one of Lord Dio's obstacles, and quiet early, too… Quite the fool he was…"

* * *

And now we begin one of the most tense fights near the end of the story. I had fun with this one, even when it came to adding more to the chapter after I split it. The references to Jojo as a whole and a nod to Castlevania were something I've thought of for quite a bit. So I thought it'd be appropriate for Della to wanna make a series out of their adventures, given how her story ideas are based on Araki's older work. Anyway, I'm kinda thankful for both the anime and OVA for having a bit of material to help lengthen this chapter. It helps explain certain things and expanding on them nicely. Of course, I try not to use too much of it, given my main inspiration for the story's the manga.


	35. You Will Pay Tomorrow

Part two of the previous chapter. And on time, too. Kinda helped that a good chunk of this chapter was done before I had to split it. A good decision if I do say so myself. So, you wanna see how all this plays out? Then what're you waiting for! Read on ahead!

* * *

Ch. 35  
You Will Pay Tomorrow

JANUARY 14TH, 1989  
16:52  
GIZA, EGYPT

When Joaquín and his group came to the cafe on the outskirts of Giza, he had no intention of gambling. He didn't want any of his friends to gamble either. It was a dangerous game to be playing, especially against someone as talented and crafty as this D'arby character. For all they knew, he would have robbed them all of their money, or worse. But given their situation, they had no choice. He asked Jean Pierre to take him up on his bet, hopeful that he would win such a simple gamble.

But, as he feared, it was worse than losing money. The Frenchman lost the bet, and as payment, he lost his life. His soul was now trapped within a poker chip, and his body was left lifeless. It was all Joaquín's fault. They could have done anything else, like using Hermit Purple to help divulge the information they needed. But he took the bait. He allowed Jean Pierre to bet. And now, he had to bear the guilt of allowing one of his closest friends to die to a cheating Stand user.

Before he could let loose, Mohamed beat him to the punch with an uncharacteristic fury. "Y-You bastard," he shouted, letting go of his fallen comrade and lunging at D'arby. He lifted him by his collar and prepared to strike, the cat bounding of his master. The threat was met with indifference from the gambler. As for the other patrons, the ruckus caught their attention. They didn't move, not wanting to get themselves involved, but that didn't stop them from glaring.

With even more annoyance added to his anger, Joaquín turned to them all and shouted, "If none of you are gonna fucking help, then look away and mind your own fucking business!" And so they did.

"You jest", spat Mohamed, trying his hardest to keep his cool. "This is your idea of gambling?! That cat was not just any other cat, but yours! And yet you cheated!"

"Cheated," asked D'arby coolly. "You really think so? If men can't see through the cheat, then men can't see through the failure. I see gambling the same way I do a relationship… A relationship centered around deception, that is. And the first to cry loses… So, are you going to kill me with your bare hands? Very well, go ahead… That is, if you're okay with sacrificing his soul…"

Mohamed knew better than to just blindly risk Jean Pierre's life like that. They all did. Conceding to the gambler's threat, he pushed him back to his seat with a defeated growl. "Fine… But you will not leave here unscathed…"

"September 22nd, 1984, 11:15 PM. Do you remember what you were doing that day?" Nobody said anything, and Mohamed looked confused as to why he'd ask this. "I remember. I was in California, gambling with a man named Stephen Moor at the time. And what you said is the same thing he said to me." D'arby pulled out a coin book and opened it for them to see, filled with red, green, and blue checkered poker chips. All of them had faces in their center.

He then pointed to one of them. "That man's right here."And he was right. Beneath the chip of a male face was a label that read "Stephen Moor". Next to him was a Mrs. Moor, and below him was a Garie Moor. "His wife and father," answered D'arby, as if he sensed them looking at the others. "If you want to reclaim Polnareff's soul, then y'all have no choice but to continue gambling with me.

 _This bastard's no joke_ , thought a shocked Joaquín. _All those souls he's stolen… He's no normal gambler… He'll do any and everything to make sure he wins… And if we're not careful… he'll take us out one by one… without even having to lift a fucking finger..!_ He turned to his fallen comrade and helped him into a chair, making sure he wouldn't fall over. _Jean Pierre… We'll do our best… We'll set you free..!_

"So what'll you do? If you're feeling nervous, you can just go home… leave Polnareff with me…" D'arby chuckled and pulled out a Hershey bar. "Well, why not have a drink and give it some thought. How about some chocolate?"

Before Joaquín could say anything, Joseph stormed to the table and swiped absolutely everything off it. Only the bottle of scotch was left, along with the chip with Jean Pierre's soul and a glass he slammed onto the table. He then poured out the bottle until the glass was full. Or rather, until it was ready to spill its amber contents out of it. Once he was certain there was enough, Joseph rested the bottle to the side.

"M-Mr. Joestar," asked Della worriedly. "You're… not gonna take him up on his offer, are you..?"

"Do you know what 'surface tension' is, Barbie," asked Joseph, ignoring her and staring intently at the gambler.

"D'arby," corrected D'arby with a slight edge to his tone. "My name is D'arby. That's the force that allows the surface of a liquid in a glass to swell up but not overflow… Why do you ask?"

Joseph reached into his pocket and pulled out several coins, dropping them around the glass without letting even a single drop overflow. "The rules are simple. We take turns dropping coins into the glass. The one who makes the scotch overflow loses."

"Oh god, he is," exclaimed Della.

"Hey, _jijii_ ," muttered Joutarou.

"N-No way," shouted Mohamed. "Mr. Joestar!"

But their worrying did not stop him from proclaiming, "I bet my soul!"

"Good," exclaimed D'arby.

Joaquín went up to his grandfather and asked, " _Abuelito_ , are you serious about this? He cheated Jean Pierre out of his soul, he'll do the same to you. Please, let one of us-"

"No," he barked. "I know he's a cheater. That's why _I_ chose this game. None of you worry. Just watch him. You too, Joutarou."

D'arby looked to have no qualms with this at all. "Okay. That's fine by me. I'll take you up on your bet. But before we begin, may I inspect the coins and the glass?" Feeling he had the right to see if he was cheating, Joseph allowed him. The gambler took a moment to look over the glass and count the coins. There was nothing suspicious about his investigation, but it didn't settle well in Joaquín's heart.

"Give us your word," he said suddenly.

"My word," asked D'arby curiously."

"That you'll give Jean Pierre back when you lose. Otherwise, we'll find another way to make you return him. We're not leaving him behind, no matter what we have to do."

"Joaquín Trejo, I am a gambler… and proud of it. I always pay for what I lose. But… I can assure you, I _won't_ lose…"

"We'll see," said Joseph, taking the glove off his good hand. "Put your coins in."

Surface tension was a strong force. Joaquín had learned all about it back in eighth grade science, having done class experiment on this. The more volume was put into the liquid, the higher it would rise. But this wasn't a tall, full glass of water and pennies. This was a scotch glass and Egyptian coins. Given how close the liquid was to spilling, and by the size of the coins and the glass itself, Joaquín guessed it could handle up to eight or nine coins. That is, if they were careful putting them in.

D'arby's first turn started with a self-inflicted risk for the gambler. He had asked if he could put in more coins at once, which Joseph agreed to. So he took five and demanded for complete silence so he could concentrate. Slowly, carefully, he eased the coins into the scotch as much as he can before letting them drop in. Their presence made the liquid rise slightly, but nothing spilled over. Not even when it was rippling. He was lucky, and brave.

On Joseph's turn, he took it easy and prepared to drop one coin. But unlike D'arby, who he had been keeping an eye on for cheating, his grandfather was the one with a trick up his sleeve. Or rather, his thumb. He saw it without the use of Preciosa, a wad of cotton between his thumb and the coin. His grandfather pressed it, making it leak some fluid into the already full glass and add more volume to it.

 _That hypocrite_ , he humorously thought. _And he was telling_ us _to watch the other guy for any cheating? Pretty clever_ , Abuelito.

"This kind of stuff is bad for the heart," sighed Joseph, who successfully dropped his coin in. "Alright. Your turn now, Obi."

The gambler snatched his opponent's hand, the others standing straighter and ready to act. He looked more annoyed in contrast to the old man's stoic expression. "It's D'arby," he growled. "Do _not_ make that mistake again! My name is D'arby! It's not Obi or Barbie! Got it?!"

"Sorry." But his apology wasn't sincere. He had done this on purpose, following a similar tactic Joaquín tried on Martika that led to her defeat. _Either he really takes Sun Tzu's tactics to heart or he's a natural-born gambler. Doesn't matter… He's got this in the bag._ "It's still your turn, D'arby."

The man took a moment to compose himself, nibbling on some of his chocolate. He also seemed to be planning his next move as well. After a few seconds, he stood up and moved around to his right of the table, saying, "It's a bit difficult to do it from here because of my shadow. Is it okay to do it from here?"

"Wherever it pleases you," answered Joseph.

Everyone watched with bated breath as D'arby focused on his coin over the glass. Nobody moved, not even the other patrons who Joaquín knew were still watching them. A moment of silence passed before D'arby suddenly said, "'The scotch's surface tension is already at it's limit. It's impossible.' That would be what you're thinking, right? Well… I beg to differ…" And he dropped his coin in, the liquid swelling, rippling…

And finally resting. To everyone's shock, nothing spilled over.

"BULLSHIT," screamed a disbelieving Joseph as he shot up from his seat. "That's bullshit! How's it not overflown?!"

"Pardon," asked a smug D'arby. "What do you mean, 'How's it now overflown'? As you can see, I still did it… Now, your turn, Mr. Joestar."

He swiveled to his grandsons, as if begging to to know if he cheated. However…

"H-He didn't make any funny moves at all," said Joaquín, just as confused as his grandfather. "He didn't cheat… And our Stands had been watching him the whole time..!"

"Just now," said Joutarou, unable to contain his mild confusion either, "this guy put in his coin fair and square… There's no doubting it.."

 _But that doesn't make any sense…_ Abuelito _made sure that he'd win… That D'arby's next coin would have made the booze spill over… There was no more room for another… So how..?_

"Go ahead, Mr. Joestar," called D'arby, resting his chin on his hand and waiting with pretentious impatience. "And do it quick! Or are you waiting for the scotch to evaporate first?"

Joseph swallowed the lump of nervousness in his throat and shakily brought his next coin to the glass. He didn't look focused anymore. The prospect of losing and the impossibility of D'arby's last move was weighing heavily on both his mind and heart. He was panicking. He had run out of tricks to use. "I-I can't believe it," he moaned. Joseph had reached the end of his rope.

" _ABUELITO_ , NO!"

Osiris had reached behind him and dragged out his soul, the old man collapsing back lifeless. The coin dropped and finally broke the surface tension, spilling the scotch.

"In his heart of hearts, Joestar admitted defeat," explained D'arby victoriously. "That's why I'm able to remove his soul! I've won this gamble!"

"Mr. Joestar," shouted Mohamed and Della.

" _Jijii_ ," shouted Joutarou.

Even the soul of Joseph was stunned, a single tear leaking as he was dragged away. "Polnareff… I'm sorry," he apologized. "And my daughter, Holly… I couldn't save you…" The soul was then molded, stretched and clapped into yet another, poker chip, this time with yellow checks on it. They had lost yet another one of their own.

Satisfied with his victory, D'arby picked the chips up and displayed them mockingly the group. "Two chips," he happily stated. "Now, let's keep gambling! That is, so long as you wanna keep playing with me. Otherwise y'all can just tuck your tails between your legs, abandon these two, and run for it."

"ENOUGH," roared Joaquín, finally flying across the table and pinning the dirty gambler to the ground. He was livid. His own grandfather was dead, his own soul stolen, and this man had the audacity to flaunt his victory in front of that man's family. D'arby had a death wish, but Joaquín, as much as he wanted to, couldn't grant it. "GIVE THEM BACK TO US NOW, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!"

"Don't you get it," asked D'arby unworriedly. "If you kill me, then you end up killing two souls this time. And I'm certain you don't wanna cost your grandpa his life, do you?"

"FUCK YOU!"

The bartender, having enough himself, left his counter and barked, "Hey! What's going on! If you cause any more trouble here in my store, then leave!"

To which Joaquín, without turning away, shouted, "I SAID MIND YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS!" His rage was enough to spook the bartender into back away to his counter, leaving the two alone. "I swear, I will kill you…"

" _Joaquín, that's enough_ ," Joutarou said calmly. " _Besides, I found out how D'arby won._ "

His rage stilled for a moment for him to look back at his brother, who had dumped the glass of scotch and coins. He tilted it for him to see. There was nothing out of the ordinary, except for tiny brown smear near one of its edges. Beneath Joaquín, D'arby chuckled and said, "You noticed too late, Joutarou."

His curiosity slowly quelling his anger, Joaquín stood up and took the class to inspect. He touched the smear and brought it to his tongue. "Chocolate," he asked, before looking down at the Hershey bar that fell when he tackled D'arby. "Wait a minute, when did he have a chance to put chocolate under here? He couldn't have done that unless-" And then it hit him. "Unless he touched the glass… "

"It was before the game started," explained Joutarou. "He stuck it under there when he was inspecting the glass and coins."

"Didn't you know already," asked D'arby as he sat up. "You can't call it cheating if you don't notice it"

Joaquín was trying to piece everything together in his mind. "So… He put a piece of chocolate underneath," he slowly said. "That meant… when he put it there, everything was tilted away from him. The scotch's tension was tilted to one side, enough to get in the first six coins… But it's melted now… When it melted, the tension was flattened and equalized… That's how D'arby got in that last coin..!"

Della, who had stood in silent shock beside Mohamed, asked, "But… How did he get it to melt..?"

To which Joaquín pointed to the slowly sinking sun. "D'arby was lucky to have been sitting right in the light of the sun. The shadow he cast kept the chocolate cool until he moved out of the way. When he was taking his time concentrating on getting the coin in, he was actually waiting for the it to melt. That sun's hot enough to do it… That bastard's a lot clever than we thought…"

"I agree," said Joutarou as they all watched their enemy stand up and dust himself off. "Clever and lucky… But that's gonna run out soon…" He then pointed to him and barked," Alright, D'arby! Take out your trump card! We're playing poker now."

"Interesting," he said excitedly. "Poker's one of my best forms of gambling!"

As much as he trusted his brother's skills in the game, he couldn't help but feel worry. They had just lost two of their own against a very dirty gambler. " _Joutarou_ ," whispered his older brother. " _Are you really gonna go through with this? I know you're good, but… this guy's dangerous. One of the most dangerous we've fought, and he doesn't even need to resort to violence…_ "

" _I know that_ ," Joutarou whispered back. " _But I can't afford not to try…_ " He then turned to him and flashed him a reassuring smile. It was rare for him to do this, but coming from him, it meant a lot. " _Don't worry,_ niisan _. I'll save them._ "

He took his grandfather's seat at the table, whose lifeless form was taken by Della and Mohamed and propped in another seat beside Jean Pierre. His attention was focused solely on D'arby, who had pulled out a deck of cards and set them for everyone to see. "Before we start this game, I want to try something for a second. First, shuffle the deck."

The gambler obliged, splitting the deck in half and shuffling with the expertise of a casino dealer. One would think that he was a former casino employee just by how fluid and practiced his technique was. Once he finished, he rested the deck between him and Joutarou.

"All shuffled," stated D'arby. "What're you trying to do?"

"Pick one near the top. Just flip over any one of those cards you want. Only you can see them." When he did so, he pulled out a stack of nine. "Let me guess, six of hearts?"

Judging by the gambler's raised eyebrow, Joutarou was right.

"I'll tell you the order of cards from the top down: five of spades, queen of diamonds, jack of spades, ace of hearts, seven of diamonds, six of clubs, king of clubs, two of diamonds."

And he was right again. All nine cards, the six of hearts included were laid out before everyone, shocking them all. Except for Joaquín.

"Looks like they're all right," he said, gazing hard at D'arby. "Didn't Dio tell you about Star Platinum and Preciosa? Not only did _he_ see every card, but so did I. Our Stands have incredible vision and tracking skills, powerful enough to even distinguish which tree an idiot jumps into. Every last one of them… We could read all of them from top to bottom and backwards."

"Very interesting," said D'arby sincerely. "However, if that's all, then I just need to be careful not to let you see me cut the deck."

"Don't you get it," coldly asked Joutarou. "It'll be hard for you to cheat any time soon. I refuse to let you get away with anymore."

This presented quite a challenge for a seasoned cheater. Despite the nervous sweat beading on his forehead, a spark of excitement glinted in D'arby's eyes. All he could growl is an understanding "Good." as Joutarou pulled out his own pack of cards he had bought not too long ago. It still had its security seal on it, meaning that it hadn't been opened and tampered with at all. There would be no cheating this time, not even from him.

The cards were taken out and laid out before them. As it should be, the joker card was first, and the cards were all in order and normal. Meanwhile, D'arby had set out a what looked like the bible on a drink cart, riffling through the pages without even looking at it. _If I had to guess_ , wondered Joqauin, _I say he's trying to guess where he lands. Maybe he can tell where each card is just by touch and memorization. That's not a bad trick…_

And once he stopped, he looked at it and smiled, confirming that he guessed correctly. He set it aside once Joutarou had put the cards back and offered them to him. "Okay," he exclaimed. "Open the game!" He then took half of the deck and showed off a ten of hearts. Joutarou took the other half and got a seven of clubs. They were deciding who would get to deal out the cards

"Looks like I'm dealer," he smugly stated "Heh heh… Now, I just have to shuffle at an angle neither of your Stands could see." And so he tilted the cards, deluding himself into thinking nobody could see. But the brothers saw everything. There was no workaround for D'arby. Once he finished, he offered Joutarou to cut the cards, which he did in silence. The cards were dealt out, first to his opponent, then to himself. This happened twice. And upon the third card ready to be dealt to Joutarou…

Star Platinum suddenly appeared and broke D'arby's right index finger backwards, making him scream in distress and pain.

"Oh my god," exclaimed Della, taken aback by the sudden attack.

"W-What happened, Joutarou," asked a confused Mohamed.

"That motherfucker tried to cheat, that's what," growled Joaquín, who saw everything. In D'arby's good hand, there was a card sticking out from under the top card meant for Joutarou. "He was gonna deal him that card and save the first for himself! And if he did that…" He flipped over the opponent's cards and the top card as well. All three of them were kings.

"He would have given himself a winning hand in the first round," pointed out a shocked Della."

"Gambler's call that a second deal… Guys who practice it long enough, like this scumbag, are harder to catch cause of how fast their hands are… But we can spot cheating from a mile away…" Joaquín snatched the cards away from their agonized dealer. "Don't fucking underestimate us, D'arby..!

The man glared up at Joutarou and painfully growled, "W-What a terrible man..! How could you break my finger..!"

To which Preciosa flung one of the cards with such force that it stabbed the table close to the gambler's hands. "Be thankful my brother only broke your finger… Had I chosen to play you instead, your entire hand would have been cut off..!"

This turn of events led to the conclusion that in order to have a fair game, none of them should deal. They needed a third party, someone who had no involvement with D'arby. None of the bar would do, from what he could see. But luckily, as he looked around, he spotted a young boy practicing with a soccer ball out on a hill outside. "Mohamed," he called to him. "Can you bring that kid over here to deal for them?"

As he went out and did this, the gambler took out a cloth and began to bind his fingers together with both his free hand and teeth. "Good," he growled again, looking pained from both the injury to his fingers and, perhaps, his pride. "As I expected… Cheating uses a psychological blind spot… You can't spot any cheating with just sharp eyes alone… But you boys… saw through my second deal… I underestimated you... No matter who it is, you never underestimate your opponents…

"I'll reflect on this lesson… I accept this broken finger as my punishment… But now, I challenge you in this game with all my heart and soul, Joutarou… Before today, my biggest game was in May 17th, 1986… At the time, I went against a Japanese man named Shouzou Mayama … I robbed him not only of eight Tokyo real estates, but his soul… He might have been a rich man, but he was a powerful man..! Just like you..! I'm no longer here to fight you on Dio's behalf… I'm here to fight you…

"... as a born gambler!"

He tossed the chips of both Joseph and Jean Pierre just as Osiris manifested behind him. The Stand then chopped and sliced the chips before they all split into six pieces each, landing back on the table in perfect columns.

"W-What was that for," asked Della.

"Have you ever played poker before, miss?" She shook her head. "Of course not. Poker's where, if you think your cards might lose against your opponent, then you can step down from the game and fold. Basically, you must bet a participation fee of just one chip. You can't compete in this game with just two chips alone. Once he wins back six chips, I'll return one of the souls."

"You better promise…" She then approached the table and glared coldly at him. She lacked the same fury Joaquín had for him, but that did not stop her from threatening him. "Because if you lie again, cheat again, if you don't hold your end of the bargain at all… you'll be dealing with _all_ of us… Understand..?"

D'arby smirked. "You've got quite a fire to you… It's no wonder Joaquín likes you… But like I said, I'm fighting for my own sake, not Lord Dio's…. Now, Joutarou," He looked back at the youth. "If you want to gamble, then I suppose I can offer you some chips to use. However, I still haven't heard those words yet…"

Joutarou didn't hesitate to say, "I bet my soul."

"Good." He pulled out several stacks of blank, white chips and offered six to him. The others were put to the side in stacks."These snow-white chips represent your soul. When I take all six of them, your soul is mine." In the distance, Mohamed was in the middle of talking the innocent boy into being their impartial dealer. With a nod, he agreed with him and followed him back to the poker table. Joaquín handed the deck to him, which he shuffled and dealt to the two until they each had five cards.

"As an entry fee," said D'arby, throwing one of the chips to the table, "I 'll pay with one Polnareff." In turn, Joutarou bet one of his own before they both took their cards. "Let's play, then."

Poker. The world's most dangerous battle. A simple game of wits on it's own, it becomes a complex psychological war when bets are made. Players needed the sharpest of wits and the stoniest of poker faces to get anywhere in this game. One slip up could cost a player everything. While Joaquín was a good poker player, his younger brother was much better. He had better luck and a perfect, unreadable poker face that even Joaquín couldn't read. He was virtually unbreakable.

And a perfect match for D'arby.

"Now," said D'arby as he looked at his hand, right before tossing in one more chip. "I'll change two. And Joutarou. Remember, those white chips represent six pieces of our soul. Think carefully before you play."

The boy Mohamed brought over looked confused an worried, but he was reassured by the fortuneteller not to worry about them and to just deal the cards normally. Joutarou raised another chip and changed out three cards, and while Joaquín couldn't see his brother's eyes, he knew his gaze was a fierce one. Even D'arby took notice.

"How frightening… that expression of yours… I wonder if you have a good hand… Let's wait and see. Maybe bet against one Polnareff, don't you think?"

"Call," grunted Joutarou, the two tossing their chips into the proverbial pot. Both men had bet three chips each _,_ but the gamble was more deadly for Joaquín's brother. _You've gotta fold, Joutarou_ , he thought, looking down at his brother's hand. He had a two pair, eights an nines. _You might be able to beat him, but if you lose, you'll lose half your chips. And you need three chips to even play poker… You're already walking on thin ice by doing this._

"Alright, Showdown, Joutarou!" Joutarou showed his first, the two pair that he gambled half his chips on. But D'arby had a better hand. "Too bad..! Two pair, jokers and queens!" And he had those very cards when he laid them against the table. What hurt the most about his victory wasn't that they were halfway to losing Joutarou, but because there was no cheating involved.

The gambler chuckled and swept up his winnings, a smug smile on his face. "That was quite dangerous," he said with gloating relief. "I came so close to losing that round."

"Shut up," growled Joaquín. "You can still lose, D'arby. One false move and Joutarou can mop the floor with you."

"Is that right?" The gambler leaned back in his chair and smiled up at Joaquín. "I'm not a rookie player. I've played poker all my life, longer than any of you boys ever had. I've practiced night and day to make sure that when I play, I always win. No losses, no mistakes. Now," his attention returned to Joutarou, "shall we continue?"

"Next game," he said, tossing his chip in. "Deal." D'arby did the same as the boy gave them their next hands.

"This possibly won't just be your next game," said D'arby with a chuckle, checking his cards, "but it'll be your last. I'll change one card." After saying this, he noticed something about his opponent's cards. As did the others. Once they were all dealt, he didn't pick them up. Not even to peek at them. "What's wrong, Joutarou? Quickly look at your cards so you can decide whether you want to change or fold."

But he didn't move. "My cards… are fine as they are."

 _Joutarou, what on earth are you planning..?_

D'arby held a hand to his ear. "I'm sorry, what did you just say now? I don't think I understood what you said. It sounded like you said they're 'fine as they are'."

"It's exactly as I said. They're fine as they are. I'm playing with these five cards."

"I know that!" His coolness melted again, the same annoyance he had when his name was mispronounced cropping up again. "What I wanna hear is why you haven't even looked at your cards!"

But again, he was unmoved. "They're fine as they are."

"Don't be ridiculous! Now answer me! How do you think you can compete if you don't even feel like turning over your cards!"

His question went unanswered. The youth turned to his elder brother and asked him, " _By the way,_ Niisan _, I have a request._ "

"A request," repeated a confused Joaquín. "Sure, but why haven't you looked at your cards?"

Not even he got an answer. " _It's a serious one. Is that okay?_ "

" _Yeah, of course, but-_ "

" _Joaquín… Do you trust me?_ "

It was an odd question to ask, especially since the answer was obvious. Of course he trusted him. He would take a bullet for him. Joutarou was his family, and despite the short amount of time he had known him, he placed his entire trust in him. To ask this now, especially when their trust was an unspoken agreement… Joutarou must want Joaquín to do something very risky, yet very important. And he had a feeling as to what it was…

Without any worry or doubt, he told his brother, " _I trust you with my life._ "

"What the hell are you talking about," growled D'arby. "I told you to answer me!"

"Stop pestering him," Della spat. "He doesn't have to tell _you_ anything!"

Joutarou pushed over the last of his chips before grabbing six more from the ones D'arby left on the table. "In addition to that," he calmly said as he slammed the stack down,"I'm betting everything on my brother's soul."

"What?!"

It was only D'arby who vocalized his shock. The others eyes fell on Joaquín, even their dealer. But he felt nothing. He knew this was what his brother had in mind. "You know something, D'arby," he asked. "You're one tough son of a bitch. I'll give you credit for effortlessly stealing my friend and _Abuelito_ 's soul. I would have fought you, but, to be honest, I'd only end up losing. My anger would only make me impulsive and fuck up. Our situation would take a turn for the worst.

"But my brother, on the other hand… He's perfectly capable of taking you on. I don't know what he's got planned, but whatever it is, I trust him. And I've done so ever since we started this journey. There's nobody who I would trust more than my own family. That's why I'm letting him wager my own soul against you."

The gambler only stared at the brothers for a moment before his smile returned. "It that so," he asked. "Well then, I guess the tension's gotten you both of and made y'all crazy." He then snapped at their dealer. "Boy! I said to change one out! Hurry up and do it!"

Indeed the tension was high, more so than it had been earlier. Both the brother's souls were on the line. But despite what their opponent thought, their heads were clear. Joaquín's agreement to let his brother gamble on his soul was not out of impulse, but out of pure trust. No matter what happened, It was that kind of trust that could bring down any of Dio's henchmen.

With his card traded out, D'arby made his wager. "In addition to the three you lost, I'll call with all six of Polnareff's chips." All nine of them were pushed to the pot. "But, in addition to that! I raise Joseph's chips as well!" And their grandfathers' stack was pushed in as well. All fifteen of his chips were wagered. A surprising and dangerous move, for if he lost this hand, he would lose everything. Just like the brothers would. But there was one slight problem.

"Hey, wait a minute," chimed in Della, "You can't do that! Joutarou's got nothing else to bet on!"

"There's still our souls as well," Joaquín pointed out. "It's obvious that he wants Joutarou to call as well. But… I'm not gonna ask anyone of you to risk your own souls unless you want to. In the end, that's your decision. We can't make that for you."

"There's no need." She stepped up to the table and took a handful of chips from the sidelines. "Because if you want someone's soul to be bet on, then that's fine by me. If Jojo can place his life in his brother's hands, then I can do the same."

"As will I," said Mohamed, who copied Della and set some more chips down. "I will bet my own soul as well."

"There was an excited gleam in D'arby's eyes, as if he had been expecting this. "Good," he said silkily. "You have some very admirable friends, Joutarou. Or rather, foolishly admirable. So what will you do? Will you accept their offer to put their live into this game? I can make another call, just to even things out."

Joutarou simply nodded., pushing their chips to the pot. The gambler then took out two chips from his collection and summoned his Stand Osiris to slice them up into six as well. "Stephen Moor and Shouzou Mayama. They're not truly dead. Neither are your friends. They're in a state of… shall we say, suspended animation. They won't die unless their souls have been destroyed. If you do win this game, their souls will return back to America where they belong."

But this still presented a problem. "We're back to square one, D'arby." pointed out Joaquín. "You called to break even with Mohamed's added soul and then raised another soul. I've got a feeling you're after another, right?"

"You're a sharp boy," said D'arby honestly. A wicked smile graced his face. "Are you sure you don't wanna play me instead of your brother? In any case, you're right. While y'all just handed me an easier victory, I've got my sights set on one more soul. All I want is some written proof. My Stand can handle the rest."

"Whose are you talking about, then" But Joaquín knew. They all had to. Who else would he want his brother to bet on except him?

The gambler smiled and proudly said, "I'm talking about the soul of your hospitalized friend, Kakyouin!"

And the reason he asked this was pretty obvious. D'arby seemed to think that daring his opponent to wager the soul of his closest friend would break him. Would make him fold and lose. But he didn't know the boy at all. He underestimated him several times during this match, and he was doing it again. And for his smug misconception of Joutarou, he would fail.

"Alright," Joutarou complied stoically, putting another stack in. "I'll bet on Kakyouin's soul, too."

The gambit had failed. And D'arby's conceit melted to shock. He hadn't anticipated for him to agree without an argument. Nobody but Mohamed disagreed. "J-Joutarou! Neither he or his soul are here at all!"

He didn't even look his way when he asked " So you think I'm acting selfish?" as he took out a pen and his notepad to write down his IOU. But there was something wrong with what he said. It sounded as if he had something in his mouth. And Joaquín could have sworn he saw Star Platinum fade away, if only briefly.

D'arby seemed to have noticed too. "Hey, Joutarou," he called out and pointed accusingly. "What did you do just now?!"

"What'd I do just now..? What do you mean..?" Looking at his brother, he noticed a thin, white stick jutting from between his lips. It wasn't a cigarette at all. _Whatever it is, is that what Star Platinum did? Did he give him something too fast for D'arby to see? Sure feels like it._

"Just now… H-Huh..?"

"What's wrong?" He took out the stick for a moment, revealing it was a lollipop he was sucking on. "You're looking a little off." It didn't take long for Joaquín to realize just what he was doing. Joutarou was bluffing, trying to subtly make D'arby panic. He wasn't trying to shock him with suddenness and speed, but to make him think that he was cheating. That in the instant Star Platinum moved, he might have swapped out some cards. It was an interesting tactic, one even he wouldn't have thought of.

But despite this, with all their souls on the line, everyone except the brothers were slowly starting to get nervous. Even the dealer and the patrons, who watched with rapt attention. If Joutarou lost, their adventure would come to an end. And yet, they all trusted the boy. He accepted everyone's souls and bet on his best friend's, and he hadn't even broken a sweat. D'arby on the other hand, had broken out in a nervous sweat. Psychologically, he was losing

There was silence as he contemplated his next move. Beside him, their dealer stole a lance at him, just as nervous as the rest of them. But he wouldn't look back, the gambler glancing at his cards for a moment before facing his opponent again. But when he did, he saw that, to his shock, Joutarou had another thing suddenly brought to him:

A glass of juice, which he was nonchalantly sipping from.

"Y-You! That juice! When did you-" Having had enough, D'arby slammed his fist on the table. "Y-You bastard! You're just mocking me! Fine, then! Showdown! My cards-"

"Hold it," interrupted Joutarou. "I've still got the right to raise."

"RRRRRAISE," trilled a panicked D'arby. "But you don't have anything else to bet on!"

But he did. And as he slammed another stack of chips onto the table, he made his ultimate gamble. One _nobody_ was prepared for.

"I raise my mother's soul."

"WHAT," everyone shouted. Especially Joaquín, who was the most shocked of them all.

"NO! NO FUCKING WAY!" He grabbed Joutarou by the collar of his _gakuran_ and practically screamed in his face. "ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?! THAT'S MOM'S SOUL! WHY'RE YOU MAKING A CRAZY BET LIKE THAT?!"

His brother didn't even flinch or react. He still spoke calmly as he had been throughout this battle. "I came all the way here to Egypt to save her. Even if I bet on her soul, she wouldn't complain about it. Not when its her own son doing it."

"But that's still-"

"So what..? She's in a coma and dying… Betting on her soul would be no different than that. And if we lose, then that's that. We can all still be together, even if we're just chips."

Joaquín's couldn't believe brother's logic. It was insane, but in the end, he was right. With no further argument, he swallowed, let go of his brother and nodded. He had permission to bet on her.

"Then it's settled," said Joutarou, turning to the quaking gambler. "But, D'arby… now you have to match my bet of my mother's soul… That is… you will tell me the secret to Dio's Stand!"

His reaction was immediate, toppling backwards out of his chair and shrieking. This could only mean one thing. _Holy shit… This bastard… This bastard knows_ , Joaquín realized. _But… if he talks, then he'll be branded as a traitor… Dio would end up killing him… Of course he'd be panicking..!_ He then looked at his brother's cards, still face down since they were dealt. _Joutarou… What're you planning..? Are you gonna make him fold..? Are you gonna play your cards..?_

 _I trust you… But… do you trust your own hand..?_

The gambler was a gasping mess. The dealer boy was quaking as well. And everyone else could do nothing but watch everything unfold. It was all coming to a head.

The youth spat out his lollipop and shouted, "Now! Call or fold! Say your next words clearly! D'ARBY!"

This was it. D'arby was cornered. No matter what option he chose, he would lose. Folding meant receiving the beating of a lifetime. Calling would result in death at the hands of his master. There would be no escape for him at all. His only option was to bite the bullet and face his fate. It took a second, but the gambler slowly rose to his feet and approached the table like a trembling zombie. His cards were crumpled in his hands.

"I-I-I am," he stammered, "I-I am… the strongest p-professional g-gambler..! I'll d-do it..! I'll ca… I'll ca… Ca… C-C-Ca…"

He couldn't say it. Every attempt to say those words, to challenge Joutarou and call his bluff, came out as a terrified wheeze. The stress was making him a quaking, sweating, wheezing wreck of a man. Even his hair was suffering, turning lighter and grayer with each attempt to speak. "C-C-C-C-Ca- Ca… Ca…" He was having a hard time breathing, desperately gasping for air to speak. But try as he might, he couldn't spit it out. His call would never come.

And then, it was over. His head drooped. His eyes had rolled into the back of his head. And one final wheeze of defeat left him.

D'arby had cracked and passed out on his feet.

"No way," muttered Joaquín. "Your bluff beat him..!"

"Y-You won," announced Della. "You won, Joutarou!"

The gambler, unable to keep standing, fell onto the table and brought everything crashing down with him. Chips and cards went flying everywhere. But the ones that contained the souls of Jean Pierre and Joseph turned back to smoky visions of themselves that floated back into their own bodies. They slowly came too, alive and well. They had been saved.

"The pressure was just too much for him," said Joutarou. "In his heart of hearts, he folded to my bet. Because that counts as him admitting defeat, everyone's souls have been released." Two more souls seemed to fly out of the bar, the ones belonging to the two D'arby had defeated years ago. Looking down at the twitching gambler, Joaquín caught a glimpse at the cards he had and blanched.

"Four kings," exclaimed Mohamed, who saw the cards as well. "T-This man had a hand with four kings!"

 _That's a powerful hand_ , thought Joaquín. _The only thing that could beat that is four aces, a straight flush or a four pair with the joker card! Joutarou, what the hell kind of cards did you have?!_ But when he picked up his brother's hand, neglected until now, he stumbled back into another table. _I-I don't… No… No fucking way…_

The dealer looked at the hand and gasped, "I-I thought so! It's what I dealt him! Garbage!"

Joutarou let out a sigh of relief. "No matter how Star Platinum tries to do it without being seen by D'arby, it would have been impossible to cheat. It looks like my strategy to bluff him into submission was a success. But my cards were crap… _Yare yare_... Had I known this, I would have panicked."

He couldn't believe his brother. "P-PANICKED," he screeched. "YOU MEAN YOU DIDN'T EVEN KNOW?! JOUTAROU, YOU BET ALL OF OUR LIVES ON A COMPLETELY SHITTY HAND AND COULD HAVE LOST! HAVE YOU GONE INSANE?!"

"Maybe. Speaking of which…" He turned too the boy, who froze before Joutarou's hard stare. "Kid, you said you knew. That means you knew what my cards were?"

Having been caught, the boy ran away screaming in fear of getting hurt. It looked like he had been working with D'arby the entire time, rigging the game in his favor. As for the gambler, he was finding the revelation to be utterly hilarious, for he flew into a fit of manic laughter. His chip-filled book flipped open on its own accord and spewed out multiple wisps of smoke that took the shape of all the souls he had robbed. They were returning to whence they came, or perhaps to the afterlife…

"Hey, everyone," he called to the escaping souls in his manic state. "Let's all play some mahjong! Backgammon is fun, too! Dice is also thrilling! No matter what, I'm still the best! Ha ha ha ha!"

" _You really cracked him good_ ," muttered Joaquín, having calmed him self. " _A bit too good. I doubt we can get anything out of him at this rate. Not even about Dio's Stand._ " At the mention of The World's ability, D'arby clutched his head and screamed in fright. " _See what I mean?_ "

" _Still_ ," said Joutarou as their friend and grandfather were getting up, " _he was a strong enemy. He tried to take us all out at once. That guy was a pretty big deal…_ "

So they were all back to the beginning, with no information on where Dio's hideout was. But their victory wasn't an unwelcome one. They had defeated yet another Stand user and escaped without any injuries. Joaquín couldn't have been more thankful for that.

" _Just promise me one thing, Joutarou_ ," he said as they all got into their truck. " _Never make a crazy bet like that again. Otherwise, I'll give you something to panic about._ "

Tomorrow, their search would continue.

Tomorrow, Holly would have two days left to live.

~DANIEL J. D'ARBY: RETIRED~

* * *

Damn, this chapter was so fun to do. Out of all the fights in Stardust Crusaders, this has always been one of my favorites, and I'm glad I got to write it. It's just so intense, like any poker game ought to be. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Look forward to the next one, we're almost to Dio!


	36. Private Eyes

Made today's chapter a bit longer than usual. I debated splitting part of the end to the next chapter, but I feel that it would have felt too awkward not to include it. Anyway, we're almost towards the end of this story. You guys excited? I sure am. I hope these next few chapters will be just as enjoyable as before.

* * *

Ch. 36  
Private Eyes

JANUARY 15TH, 1989  
11:33  
CAIRO, EGYPT

"I've been repairing roofs here in Cairo for over forty years, but I don't know… This building… There's a lot of similar ones just like it."

It was just another day in Cairo, and the search had continued since they woke up. They were deeper in the city this time, past the bridge and getting closer to the site where Mohamed had his horrific run-in with Dio. Despite it being his home, he refused to set foot in that maze again until that vampire was eliminated. He feared that there would be assassins lying in wait for him should he return there, and nobody, not even Jean Pierre, blamed him.

They had stopped to ask another resident about the building, an old carpenter who was fixing someone else's roof. He was the perfect type of person to ask, given that he was old and had to have seen his fair share of buildings in his career. Jean Pierre had been the one to point this out, and he gladly climbed the carpenter's ladder to ask him. Joaquín paid attention to the conversation with his Stand, but found himself disappointed that he knew nothing.

"However," added the old man, "the atmosphere of this building would make it look like it's over a hundred years old. Which means of you go south from here, you'll eventually find it. The further south you go in Cairo, the older the buildings are. I'm sorry I can't be of much more help than that."

"No, thank you," Jean Pierre kindly said. "I understand. It helps us quite a bit." The Frenchman slid down the ladder and relayed to the other what he heard, even though Joaquín heard him loud and clear. "What do you think? Should we head south and look around?"

"I don't know," said Joaquín uncertainly. "We checked around there and found nothing either. On top of that…" He glanced around the rest of the buildings, searching for something that wasn't there. "Do you guys feel something… off..?"

Della mimicked Joaquín and shook her head. "Not really," she admitted. "Unless you mean the same stress we've all been feeling since we got here, then no."

"Not that… I mean… something evil… But… stronger… And closer than it has this whole time. Do you guys feel it?" Everyone but his family shook their heads. " _Abuelito_ , what about you?"

The old man adjusted his hat and quietly said, "I feel it too. I can feel that man lurking right nearby. Dio is definitely near."

"His evil might be hovering over city like smog," said Joutarou, "but just standing here… It's hard to tell where it is, but I know it's close, too."

"Then let's keep looking. Leave no stone unturned." They did not go south as the carpenter suggested, but stood nearby. Dio's presence felt greater here than anywhere else. They had felt it the entire time they were in this area, but try as they might, they just couldn't find it. Were they just blind? Or was there something more supernatural at work, misguiding their search? Nobody had the answer to this, but that would not stop their search.

After several minutes, Joaquín started to feel something else in the air. It was a familiar sensation he had felt throughout his journey, one where someone had their eyes on them. And not in a good way. It had to be one of Dio's men, waiting for a chance to ambush. But he wouldn't let whoever it is get the jump on them.

"Can you guys excuse me for a minute," he asked the others as they walked through a marketplace. "Just keep walking, I'll catch up with you. I gotta check on something."

"Did you forget something, Jojo," asked Della."

"Not at all. Just trust me, I'll be okay." He waited until he felt like he wasn't being watched anymore before ducking straight into an alleyway. He wanted to find out who was lying in wait to ambush them. Only three of the Nine Glorious Gods of Egypt remained, and they had to be here in the city.

 _They have to be Dio's strongest_ , he thought as he rounded a corner. _Atum, god of creation; Nut, goddess of the heavens; and one other... Given what they govern, it'd be appropriate for Dio to save these guys for last. If this is one of them, then I have to be very careful and keep an eye-_

His thoughts stopped when he came upon another corner and saw his spy. Or rather, spies. There they stood, the unlikeliest of pairs arguing with one another. It was Hol Horse, and peeking out from beneath a box was a boy clutching a book. This was clearly Boingo, the little boy whose older brother tried to kill Joutarou back in Aswan. Perhaps he recovered quicker, given that he didn't suffer from the aftereffects of both a beating _and_ an exploding orange.

Hiding behind his corner, Joaquín listened in on them with Preciosa. Hol Horse did not sound happy at all.

"Don't play silly," he growled through his cigarette in exasperation. "But here's my point. Listen, for argument's sake, lets say I approach that sonovagun Joaquín and jam my fingers up his nose-"

… _What the fuck did I stumble upon..?_

The assassin formed his gun-like Stand in his hand. " Boingo, wouldn't it be more certain and simpler to just thump 'em with my Emperor?! Wouldn't it?!"

While he couldn't see it, the boy Boingo sounded nervous, as if he wanted to be anywhere but here. " The b-b-b-b-b-b-bullets… D-D-D-Don't shoot them… Yes… Even if you s-s-s-shoot… fate will.. make you… do otherwise, yes… B-B-B-B-B-Believe in it, yes… W-Whatever's written in this comic book… If you… Try to counter it… You'll s-s-s-s-s-suffer… horribly, yes… It's d-d-d-destiny, yes… One hundred percent, yes…"

But Hol Horse still wouldn't take, retorting harshly, "But your brother followed it and failed miserably!"

The boy's nervousness seemed to have melted at the mention of his injured brother Oingo. He calmly explained, "B-B-Big brother… To protect himself from Joaquín… he inadvertently transformed into Joutarou, yes… If he believed in the comic and didn't transform… the explosion would have caught the real Joutarou instead, yes… The predictions are never wrong, yes…"

 _Nothing I don't already know_ , Joaquín thought. _I figured that, if Joutarou was meant to blow up, then the prediction could also apply to Oingo in his disguise. It wasn't wrong. Everything that happened in that book happened as it did. You just have to interpret and trust what's shown before you. But... Do I really have to have some nasty fingers jammed in my nose?_

He pushed the thought away as he approached the assassin quietly. And as he got closer, Hol Horse looked back into the street and gasped. "J-Joaquín's gone… Hey… Where'd he go..? He'd just gotten away unnoticed…"

"Howdy, partner," whispered Joaquín. And before he could give him a chance to shoot, he grabbed his wrist with Preciosa and slammed him straight into the wall. He had him right where he wanted, pinned and struggling.

"It's been a long time, hasn't it, Hol Horse?" He dropped the whisper now, a smug grin on his face for him to see. "You know, I didn't think Dio forgave abandonment so easily. Or botched assassinations, for that matter." He then noticed that his usual cigarette in his mouth had a new addition to it. "Oh, hello, a cig filter? Trying to cut back on smoking, huh?"

"L-Let me go," growled Hol Horse only to have his hands forcefully held behind him. Preciosa pinned him hard enough to the wall for him to cough up blood.

"So you can try to kill me and my friends? I don't think so, _vaquero_. You'll be out of commission once I'm done with you. And as for your friend…" He turned to the box, which completely hid the boy and his book-like Stand. His tone became one of disappointment. "I'm surprised you came here, Boingo… You should be back in Aswan, caring for your brother… But here you are, trying to get revenge… I can't say I'm surprised, but I thought you'd do better for yourself…"

The boy stood silent. Joaquín had no idea whether it was out of anger, shyness, or shame. Or perhaps all of it. "Look, it's fine. I get it. I did technically hurt your brother. But, a kid like you trying to avenge him… and then working with this jackass here… You're only looking for trouble... Especially this close to Dio…"

"S-Shut up about him," Hol Horse choked out. "Y-You won't be gettin' to him that easily! My Stand and his, we're an unstoppable combo! We'll kill you before you can even see Dio! Your fate's been sealed the moment my partner opened that book!"

"I hate to say it in front of him, but he and his brother tried that last time and failed. Fate can be changed, if not interpreted another way. Speaking of which, trying to stick your fingers up my nose…" It made him shiver just to say it out loud. "How the hell can you expect victory from something so ridiculous?"

"Bah! Just you watch, boy!"

And before he could even react, Hol Horse broke from his grip and spun around, jamming his fingers up Joaquín's nostsils. His callused, tobacco-stained fingers. It was the most disgusting feeling in the world, and it had caught him completely off guard. It seemed like he had gone through the comic's prediction. But what came next was a mystery. Ans apparently, his foe didn't know either.

His victorious smile turned to a nervous grimace as he turned to the box. "H-Hey, Boingo," he called out. "What now?!"

"T-T-Tickle him," came the boy's muffled voice from beneath.

"E-Excuse me," asked Joaquín incredulously. But before he could retaliate, he had a pair of hands tickling all over his ribs and armpits. It was all too much. He laughed wildly from the sensation and tried to push the assassin off him, nearly screaming through his fit. "S-Stop! _¡Ay dios mío, para! ¡Parate por favor!_ "

His laughter must have echoed out through the streets, for there came a familiar call of "Jojo?" It was Della, and judging by the quickening footsteps that followed her, she was with the others. Upon realizing this, he pushed Hol Horse off him with his Stand and out onto the street. He followed him as the others had caught up, the assassin frozen in their sights.

"Well, this is nostalgic," said Jean Pierre snidely.

"I don't believe it," mused Joseph.

"How did Dio even let you live," asked a shocked Della.

"That does not matter," said Mohamed, lifting his headband to show him his bullet-shaped scar on his forehead. "I owe you for the wound you have inflicted upon me."

"You're not alone," Joutarou pointed out. "You're not the kind of person who fights on his own. So, where's your new partner, Hol Horse?"

Joaquín pointed to the box. "Boingo. He's under there. But I wouldn't worry about him. He's not our biggest problem. In fact, nether is… is..." The scent of tobacco had gotten to him, making him sneeze hard. "S-Shit… Damn, that smells so bad."

"What did he do," asked his girlfriend worriedly.

"Long story… Now…" He joined the others, Preciosa standing right behind his quarry to prevent him from escaping."Let's make a deal, okay. If you don't cooperate, I'll beat you into next week. But if you do, well let you go. We'll forget we even saw you, and you can run away without any worries. Does that sound good?"

"I-I don't know about Dio's powers," said Hol Horse suddenly. "A-And neither does Boingo! S-So what the hell do you want help with?!"

"Simple. Give us the location to Dio's hideout. And we'll let you live. Dio's as good as dead anyway, so you have nothing to worry about if you tell us. We know you know where it is."

The assassin's breathing grew ragged, his cigarette dragged right down to the butt. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead. His entire body shook. Hol Horse looked completely scared, quite unlike himself. The thought of betraying the man who paid him and allowed him a third chance to kill his enemies must have seemed frightening. He no doubt wanted to live, but he did not want to be labeled a traitor. Joaquín could see the fear in the man's widening eyes.

Along with something else. Something big and green.

Something driving straight towards them all.

"EVERYONE, MOVE," Joaquín shouted.

It was too late. A truck had knocked them all out of the way and straight into a wall. But in the split second before impact, Preciosa returned to him immediately and shielded him from the truck. The others summoned their own Stands to do the same thing. Even his grandfather, whose Hermit Purple wrapped around his whole body. Once it hit, Joaquín was knocked back into some of the debris created by the crash, his body pulsing from the shock and pain from the blow.

 _Son of a bitch_ , he growled in his throbbing head. _What the hell… was that..? Did someone have a bad day or something..? Or did that idiot Hol Horse trick us into getting hit… Bah…_ No me importa eso… _I better check on the others… If I can get up, that is…_

His legs were shaking a bit, but he managed to get up and start looking around. While Hol Horse and the hiding Boingo were gone, his friends were all scattered near the crash site. Joutarou was prying himself free of the truck, Della was holding onto its bumper for support, Joseph and Mohamed were on the round in a daze, and Jean Pierre was trapped under as few blocks.

"Is everyone okay," asked Joutarou as he knelt beside his grandfather. " _Jijii_ , wake up. You alright?"

The old man shook his head a slowly sat up. "I-I'm doing okay… Damn, what happened..?"

"W-We got ran over," groaned Della. "But I got my Stand out in time to defend myself. Did everyone else..?" There were nods and groans of confirmation. "Good… Mohamed, what about you?

The fortuneteller slowly lifted himself to his knees and wiped his face. "I am fine as well… It knocked me unconscious for a few seconds, but all I got from that were some scratches… Joaquín, Joutarou, please help Polnareff…"

The brothers hobbled over to the fallen Frenchman, pinned to some rocks. He didn't seem too hurt, though there was some worry that his legs might have been crushed. "Can you feel your legs," asked Joaquín as he got behind him. Joutarou was quickly getting the rocks off of them.

"My big toe feels funny," he grumbled. "W-Where'd that bastard Hol Horse run off to..? I didn't see… Why'd he run off like that and not get hit..?"

"Doesn't matter," Joaquín said, trying to lift him. "We'll get back at that… that…" Another sneeze from those fingers in his nose brewed again. And this time, he sneezed directly into his brother's face. It might have been his imagination, but he could have sworn that something flew by quickly, right between them. " _Gah… Sorry… Hol Horse… He was following some prediction in that boy's book and jammed his fingers up my nose… And he tickled me…_ "

" _Yare yare daze_ ," groaned Joutarou as he wiped his face off. At the same time, there was a crash in the distance. They looked and saw that something had struck the top of one of the nearby buildings. Several tiny object seemed to have flown past it. Looking next to him, Joaquín noticed an exposed pipe, aimed directly at where his brother was. It didn't take long to guess what might have happened.

" _Uh, Joutarou?_ "

" _Yeah?_ "

" _I think… I think Hol Horse might have shot into the other end of this pipe… And his bullets missed and flew into that tower._ " He pointed to where they had struck." _Yeah, it ended up missing you because I sneezed and you reeled back, I think._ "

" _Why me, though?_ "

" _Dunno. But I think Boingo's Stand predicted you'd get shot from those bullets. It did try to get you blown up a while back, too._ "

"Can you both shut up about that kid and help me out already?!"

They nearly forgot what they were doing and resumed getting Jean Pierre free from his trap. They were all thankful nobody was too seriously injured. Not even the truck driver, who stumbledout of the wreckage as well. As they did this, something came up about what Joaquín said about Thoth.

"Niisan," addressed Joutarou. " _You said it might have predicted that I would end up shot, right?_ "

" _I did_ ," answered his brother.

" _You also said that book is completely accurate. That whatever is written in there is gonna happen no matter what, right?_ "

" _Yeah._ "

" _So… If we take into consideration that someone else blew up last time because they were disguised as me… what will the bullets aim for since they missed me?_ "

To answer his question, there came a shrill cry of pain from close by. It sounded exactly like Hol Horse. Everyone turned to the scream, and then back to the brothers. Joaquín looked a bit surprised and his brother didn't even know how to react.

"We… should probably get out of here," said Joaquín slowly and anxiously. "I mean, with the truck and Hol Horse... Somebody probably got a hold of the police or something… Come on. Let's get out of here."

Indeed, the police and some ambulance came a few minutes after they had left the scene. Joaquín had stood behind to watch everything unfold, hiding in a corner away from prying eyes. The driver of the rogue truck was put in handcuffs. Apparently, he had tried running over Hol Horse for blowing off his ear. Meanwhile, the assassin in question was hauled off on a gurney, his face covered in blood and bullet holes. He had miraculously survived, according to one of the EMTs, but his wounds were severe.

"I don't know how it happened," he told to one of the other paramedics. " But there's a bullet-like wound that gouged him from his forehead to the top of his head. If it were off by one centimeter, he would have been dead. He's a very lucky man."

"My predictions are flawless." A small voice came from behind him. It was Boingo, clutching his comic book in his hands. Oddly enough, there were three holes on the cover now. He then opened it and showed him one of the pages. Sure enough, there was the caricature of Joutarou, shocked as three bullet holes shot him. They matched the same ones found on the cover as well. "And so, this is what Hol Horse's destiny led to."

"He made a mistake, didn't he," asked Joaquín, to which the boy nodded slowly. "So if everything was interpreted correctly, then my brother… He'd be the one dying instead."

"Yes… I told you… Absolutely accurate. But…your brother got lucky… As did you… My big brother and Hol Horse were defeated by fate… Not you… You avoided it all…"

"I guess so…" That image in the book was rather disturbing, despite its cartoony nature. He couldn't imagine Joutarou being killed like that, nor would he allow it. "We really are lucky… It could have been my brother on that stretcher… Course, if that were to happen, Hol Horse would be fucked either way. But not you…"

"Why… Why not me..?"

He turned to him and crouched a bit until they were eye level. Somehow, the boy didn't look away. "Because you're not a bad kid. You're just… a bit misguided by Dio. I mean, I know I deserve your anger, but… Revenge isn't for you. Not for a kid as young as you, you know?"

Boingo stood silent, his dull eyes expressing a hint of shame. Joaquín rested his hand on his shoulder and kept talking. "Listen, what I said back then about your Stands having the power to do good, I meant it. You can turn yours and your brother's lives around. That book and its predictions… You can use it to help those in need…"

"I… I can," asked Boingo, his eyes widening like a confused puppy.

"Absolutely. You can live without crime. With you Divine Thoth and Oingo's Divine Knum… You can make your lives a happier one… People won't look at you funny, but instead revere you… And your fates… They won't lead to botched misfortune… but good luck…" The boy was in awe, as if he couldn't believe his enemy was being so kind and supportive to him. But he was, and he meant every word of it all.

"I want you to forget about all this. About Dio, about us, about Hol Horse. Go back to your brother. Take care of him. And when he's all patched, you both live a better life. Okay?"

He nodded and smiled. "I… I will. And… I won't, by any means, live my life timid and scared of others under a box anymore. I… I feel like… both this fight and your words… made me grow a bit bigger… Thank you, Joaquín Trejo, for believing in me… More than even Dio could…" Oingo then kicked aside the box he had taken with him and ran off, shouting into the streets, "I'm coming home, big brother! I'm coming back to Aswan, big brother!"

 _Looks like I got through to that kid_ , thought Joaquín proudly. _Those brothers… once Dio's properly out of their lives, things are gonna look up for them._ He left the streets feeling accomplished. He might not have gotten what he desired from his third run-in with Hol Horse (that being Dio's location), but he managed to guide a young boy from the darkness and into the light. It was still a victory in his eyes, and he wouldn't have had it any other way.

 _Good luck, Oingo and Boingo. May your futures be bright._

"Huh? Oh, Iggy! There you are, you little _bribón_! Come on, let's go get you some gum!"

~+JO*JO+~

" _Merde_ , It's super hot today. I haven't had a bath since yesterday. It's ruining my handsome looks."

It was indeed hot, growing more humid and brighter throughout the day. It might have been January, but Cairo continued to burn. It was one in the afternoon now, about an hour since Hol Horse tried to kill them. Everyone had split up again to widen their search, but at the moment, Joaquín, Della and the currently complaining Jean Pierre were taking a breather. They all sat on a sidewalk with blankets over their heads, trying to beat the heat as much as they could.

"Why didn't you," asked Della, who was fanning herself with just her hand.

"Are you kidding? Yesterday was so exhausting. My legs and feet were so sore, I just collapsed into bed. As much as I love my hair, I was just so tuckered out."

Joaquín took a sip of some soda he had bought and said, "You'll live without a bit of conditioner for one day. You won't die." As he said this, a ragged looking man with a pockmarked face and shades sat beside his grumbling friend. He was taken off guard, not only by his sudden appearance, but by his physical appearance. With his patched clothes and his arm in a sling, he gave off the air of a beggar, and it made the Frenchman uncomfortable.

He had said nothing the whole time he sat there, nor did he register them. Jean Pierre waved his hand in front of him just to garner a response, but he got nothing. Having had enough, he scooted away from him. The beggar then followed. He scooted again. The beggar did it again. And then it turned into a scooting chase, which was absolutely hilarious to Joaquín and his girlfriend. Not so much for their unfortunate friend.

"What're you doing," he shouted at the beggar, having had enough. "Why're you following me?!"

"You dimwitted bastard," growled the man, taking off his shades and just as agitated. "Move it! That's what I'm trying to tell you! I get you're a foreigner, but you're sitting in this spot like a beggar! Who decided you and your friends could do that?!"

That was a bit hypocritical for him to say, but somehow, the fact that Jean Pierre was sitting there deeply offended him. To add insult to injury, a passerby mistook him for an actual beggar and handed him a 10-pound note. "B-Bastard! H-How dare..! T-this is _my_ territory, damnit!"

"Territory," asked Jean Pierre, utterly befuddled by everything going on.

As if on cue, Mohamed and the others were walking up to them. "Hey, everyone," he called out almost sternly. "Do not sit there! And Polnareff, hand that money to him!"

He did just that as Joaquín stood up and asked, "So this guy's an actual beggar?"

" _Aietidhariun ya saydi_ ," said the fortuneteller apologetically when he came to the man. His eyebrows raised over his shades after he had put them back on. "That is my bad. My friend here does not know much about this city."

"But why didn't he say so?"

"Because that's how I make my business," the offended beggar snapped. "Silence is my technique! I'm a mute beggar!"

"Here in Cairo," started Mohamed, "there is a beggars union; they are properly appointed territory and are paid for their work. In Islamic teachings, we are taught that 'those who give alms to the poor shall go to heaven'. It is one of the five pillars of the religion. So, it may seem strange, but without these kinds of rules, discord will break out among the beggars."

The beggar scoffed. "That hurt my pride more than I thought… But if I disguised myself as a poor foreigner, would I make more of a profit..? I wonder if I should do that…" He looked up at Mohamed and smirks. "By the way, I thought I'd seen you somewhere before. You're that fortuneteller Avdol, aren't you? There've been rumors, you know! I heard you fled to Japan when someone wanted to take your life."

"New York," corrected the fortuneteller politely. "Actually, it is because of those sharp ears of yours that I have been looking for you. You will be rewarded sufficiently for this." He then handed over a the picture of Dio's hideout, one of the last few they had. "We wish to know the location of the building in this photo. We are in a bit of a hurry."

The man took the photo and gave it a brief look before flinging his robes off. He was wearing a crisp, pinstripe suit beneath the rags, quite the subversion from his prior poor looks.

"I'm finishing early for the day," he said as he slipped on a fedora and walked towards a nearby Cadillac sedan far too expensive for just any beggar. "I'll find that photo's building in three hours… Just wait here, okay?"

"Wait, so that's it," asked Joaquín, hope rising in his heart. "He's gonna find it for us?"

"I have faith in this man," assured Mohamed. "His kind are the ones who know the lay of the land ever better than men who have been here their whole lives. This man is our best chance to find Dio's whereabouts. I am sorry I didn't find someone like him sooner."

"That's okay. Point is, we're closer than ever before." He took a seat next to Della and let out a sigh of relief. This entire time, their luck had been awful. Nobody could help them, their only leads had either lost their minds, were hospitalized, or killed. But now, they had found the best help they could get. And all they had to do was wait three hours before they could bring this tiring journey to an end.

"Hey… By the way…" Della looked around the street. "Where'd Iggy run off to?

"Iggy," asked Joseph. "That dog's probably searching for that building on his own. Either that or he's just lounging about. We shouldn't worry. He'll come back to us before we leave."

"I hope so. It's dangerous enough as it is here."

Joaquín patted her back and smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry, Della. Iggy's the toughest dog out there. He'll be okay, and he _will_ return to us."

But he didn't. Four hours had passed and Iggy had not returned at all. And neither did the fake beggar. While they had explored the city more, they had returned to that spot out on the street to wait for him. But the sun was already beginning to set, and neither of them showed up.

"I guess he couldn't find it," said Jean Pierre with some disappointment. "Well, Avdol? What do you think?"

Everyone turned to Mohamed, whose brow had been furrowed. Something was clearly on his mind, and whatever it was did not look good at all. And when he spoke, everyone could feel the worry in his tone.

"Just now, I was thinking… Perhaps it would be a good thing that he did not find it… There is a chance… that the reason he had not returned was because he _already_ did…"

"What do you mean," asked Joaquín. "You don't think he got attacked, do you?"

"It would not be strange if a Stand user had been tasked to prevent anyone from approaching that building… It might have been too dangerous to have asked that beggar to search for that building…"

They all looked at one another, silently agreeing with Mohamed. Asking an innocent man to search for the building on his own was foolish. _One of us should have gone with him_ , Joaquín thought ruefully. _But now we might have lost our last shot at finding this building… Son of a bitch… We're on borrowed time at this point… We may have to get desperate tomorrow... This is our last chance…_

"It's getting late," he sighed as he rose to his feet. "We can't stay here any longer. Let's just get back to the hotel. We need our rest."

Silently, everyone followed him to where their truck was parked. Waiting any longer wasn't an option. All they could do is hope those two were alive. While it was easier to place their hopes on Iggy, the beggar…

He was as good as dead.

The entire ride to their hotel was a silent and somewhat somber one. Once again, they have gotten nowhere, and it was putting a damper on their spirits. Finding Dio was feeling more and more impossible. If they had to get desperate, they would. At least, Joaquín would. He would wait until the sun set tomorrow and call the vampire out to face him if he needed to. No matter what happened, he would not give up the fight for his mother's life.

Back at the hotel, Joaquín and Della were silently sitting in bed together, both looking out the window to the slowly darkening sky. They hadn't spoken since they arrived, both taking showers and wordlessly agreeing to just sit together and behold the last rays of light disappearing to the east. There was no need for words in this moment. There was no need for worry. All that mattered was themselves, and what might be the last sunset they will ever see.

In the peaceful silence they shared, he couldn't help but think about how everything in his life brought him to this moment. It was soon broken when he started to voice them.

"You know… my _abuelita_ always spoke about destiny when I was growing up. That I would have to chose where my life would end up taking me when the time came. When she told me months ago that I was destined to go to Japan, I didn't quite understand why she'd tell me to go there of all places. Then I found out it was a chance to find my mom and reunite with her. And for a time, I thought that was all my destiny was gonna be, to be with her again.

"But I don't think that's not the case anymore… _Abuelita_ … She knew that my destiny was more than just getting back with Mom. She and _Abuelito_ knew each other before I was born. He must have told her about what the Joestars were destined for, and she knew that I would eventually be a part of it. Setting me on the path to Japan was just the beginning… But she must have known that one day, I would confront the man that plagued my family for a century and end him. I don't doubt it anymore.

"... You know what, though? That reminds me of something… It was something she said on the day that my Stand appeared. She said something like, 'You're on the path to your destiny. I can feel it.' And at first, I didn't quite understand it all. Dad had just died, and I had some spirit hanging over me that I didn't know how to control. At the time, I was just some Nuyorican punk who fought every day and could produce sparks. How was I on the path to my destiny?

"Well… It was on that day that everything changed. The world felt different. _I_ felt different. And before I knew it, I was getting mixed up in some of the craziest shit. I saw strangers and friends with these incredible spirits and powers that I never thought was possible. My destiny was slowly beginning to unravel with the people I met and the places I went to. And then I met you, Della… You were the start of it."

"Me," she finally spoke, looking over at him with her wide eyes filled with curiosity.

"Yeah. Had I not met you, I wouldn't have learned about _Abuelito_ or ran into Mohamed. I would have ended up missing him at the airport and got lost in Japan looking for my mom. Were it not for you coming into my life… I wouldn't even be here. I owe all of this to you."

She looked both stunned and flattered. Words seemed to have failed her, for she her mouth kept opening and closing. She fell back to looking out the window, clearly trying to find the right words. After a moment, she finally spoke up.

"It's funny… I've… felt the same way. Like, we've had a stronger connection that went beyond just knowing each other as kids. Even before I found out I was a Zeppeli. It might be because of that bloodline in me, but… I felt drawn to be there for you, to help and even try to protect you…" Della looked back at him and gave him a warm smile. "To be your closest friend, through the good times and bad… But don't think that's the only reason I became your friend or fell in love with you…"

"Of course not," said Joaquín with an equally warm smile. "You fell in love for the same reasons I did with you. You're a wonderful, kind-hearted person. And like you, I'd do anything for you."

"Even if it means risking our lives," asked Della tentatively.

"Yeah. Even if it means that. I might not like that you do it for me sometimes, but… I'm grateful that you would go so far as to do that… That's another reason I like you, Della. That stubborn will of yours."

She giggled and gently punched his shoulder. "Oh, Jojo," she chided playfully. "I'm glad to have met you."

"As am I," he said with a kiss to her cheek, making her giggle more. But as her amusement died down, her cheeks started to burn red. "Della? You okay?"

"I-I am," she assured. "It's just… This may very well be our last night together."

"Yeah… I can't argue with you there… Tomorrow's uncertain… for all of us… But let's not-"

She placed a finger to his lips and whispered, "That's why… I want it to be like it _is_ our last night. If… If you'd like to."

"What do you mean?" But he knew what she meant. In the deepest parts of his mind, he had wondered if she would ever want to do anything as intimate as what she had in mind. But before she could elaborate, he hastily said, "N-Never mind. I-I know what you want. And… given the circumstances… I'd… like to do it with you."

It was the only answer they needed. Della closed her eyes and leaned towards him, an action he mimicked. Their lips locked in a gentle kiss, their hands finding one another's bodies and carefully exploring them. Despite this being what might be their only chance to share in their love for one another, they were slow. There was no desperation in their actions. They took their time, wanting to enjoy this as if there was no threat of death or sense of urgency waiting over the horizon.

It was always like this for them in their moments of solitude. The world and their problems were always pushed aside just so they could focus on one another. All Joaquín could see and think about is the woman sitting before him. All he wanted was to comfort and make her feel only him. Tonight, he would let nothing stop them from sharing this one intimate moment.

And as they consummated their love, nothing did.

~+JO*JO+~

"Dio… A report…"

"... Speak…"

"The hawk… Pet Shop… He has disappeared… and he hasn't returned."

"... How unfortunate… I've heard tales of animals leaving their owners when their time comes… But in this instance… I think this is unrelated to that. He undoubtedly attacked whoever attempted to intrude upon the mansion grounds, as per my orders… He may have been killed…"

"I saw a dog by the mansion earlier today. A Boston terrier."

"... Iggy and his Stand, The Fool… You know, some say that animals are soulless… But the existence of their Stands prove otherwise… His Stand and Pet Shop's Divine Horus… I would have liked to see those souls fight head to head… I wonder… if one uses the Bow and Arrow on every animal they got their hands on…"

"That would be far too dangerous, especially if an animal of low intellect attained a Stand. And depending on what ability they're granted, who knows? You would end up incurring a… what's the word..? It started with a 'b'…"

"Biohazard... And a large-scale one at that… You're right, Lennox… I will put the idea aside for now…"

"..."

"It's likely that the Joestar group has discovered my whereabouts. Joseph's Hermit Purple would eventually have guided him here… It is only a matter of time now… Once again, I, Dio.. shall neither run nor hide…

"I will meet my enemies in this mansion… Just as I did a century ago."

~+JO*JO+~

This was it. Their last day. Today would decide everything: who lived, who died, and who would succeed. It was their last chance to find Dio and end him once and for all. Everyone was prepared for what they would face. There was dread in all their hearts, Joaquín certainly felt it. But nobody stopped. Nobody rested. Their determination to save Holly and the rest of the world from Dio's malice outweighed their worries.

The morning and noon was spent looking all around the city not only for the mansion, but for Iggy and the beggar. There was no sign of either of them, and as worrisome that was, it did not put them down. Their search continued unperturbed. If anything, it gave them hope, as well as light a fire in Joaquín's heart. The events that happened the last forty-nine days, from the lives lost and the minds twisted drove him to set thing right. For all of them.

It was 1 PM now. As the group had reached a corner, Joutarou suddenly stopped and looked behind him. "Hey bro, what's up," asked Joaquín, trying to see what his brother was looking for.

"Has someone been following us," asked Mohamed.

Joutarou stood silent for a moment before saying, "No… I thought… I heard someone calling for us…"

"Calling for us," repeated Joseph. They had heard nothing, not even Joaquín. Perhaps they hadn't been paying attention to notice. But before they could say anything else, Mohamed's gasp had drawn their attention to where he was looking. Something was stumbling out of an alleyway ahead. It was a dog, limping and looking both ragged and tired. Its left paw was missing entirely, the stump wrapped in a bandage. Despite his worn-down appearance, they all recognized their canine companion.

"Iggy," everyone shouted as they ran up to him.

"What happened to you," asked Mohamed worriedly.

"How'd he get hurt so badly," gasped Della, kneeling to pick him up. "He's hurt all over! And his paw's missing!"

"It's like he just got ran over by a car," said Joseph, who was just as concerned as the rest.

Joaquín took Iggy from his girlfriend's hands and looked him over. There were scratches and cuts beneath his short, unkempt fur. The poor dog looked uncharacteristically exhausted. "There's no way," he said. "This level of damage… It looks like something attacked him… It couldn't have been some car or even a stray animal. It's more than likely a Stand attacked him…"

"So where's the Stand that did this," Jean Pierre asked fiercely. He seemed to have taken Iggy's condition a lot more seriously than the others. "I'll make him pay for what they did to him!"

"I don't know… Knowing Iggy, he probably beat him. Trust me, I've seen Iggy take on some pretty big dogs back in New York." Looking back at him, he couldn't help but note how well taken-care-of his amputation was. "I don't know who patched you up, Iggy, but they did a good job. This is like some surgery-grade bandaging they did."

" _It wasn't him I heard._ "

" _Huh?_ "

Joutarou had spoken up, silent as usual but undoubtedly relieved that the dog was okay. He was looking around the streets again. " _I said it wasn't Iggy I thought I heard. It sounded like a person calling us for sure…_ "

And sure enough, someone spoke from behind. _"Iggy seemed to have encountered an enemy… A boy found him dying, so I took him to a Speedwagon Foundation doctor here to treat him… Just like with my eyes…_ "

 _That voice…_

Turning around, there was yet another familiar sight. One they haven't seen since his hospitalization in Aswan. He might have been wearing a new pair of sunglasses, but they immediately recognized the boy in the green _gakuran,_ from wavy red hair to his cherry earrings.

Jean Pierre gasped. "Y-You're-"

He lowered his shades to reveal his healed-up eyes, a scar ran down each from his now-split eye brows to his cheekbones. And then he greeted them all with a wide, warm smile. It was none other than-

"KAKYOIN," nearly everyone shouted.

"NORIAKI," shouted Joaquín and Della.

Everyone was excited to see the youth return to them unharmed, especially the Frenchman. He had felt bad that the last thing they did together was argue before the attack. But if anyone was relieved the most, it was Noriaki. He was just glad everyone was safe, just as he had hoped.

"Have your wounds healed up okay," asked Joseph.

" _Yeah, they're alright now_ ," he replied gratefully. " _The scars still remain, but my eyesight has returned._ "

"Are they a bit sensitive," asked Della. "You're wearing sunglasses."

" _A little. But it's no big deal._ " He turned to his best friend and shook his hand, both wearing warm smiles. " _Joutarou…_ " The other student just nodded, happy to have him back.

"Looks like we got the band back together," said Joaquín happily. "And just in time to- H-Hey, Iggy!"

The dog had bounded out of his arms, nearly stumbling upon landing. He then began to limp away from them, but not trying to avoid them. " _Iggy's often indifferent to humans and Stands_ ," Noriaki pointed out. " _It looks like he wants to lead us somewhere. I don't know what happened when he fought that enemy Stand, but he's quite upset that he got hurt._ "

"That sounds exactly like him. Come on!" Everyone followed after him, managing to easily keep up with due to his injuries. Iggy seemed very intent to take them to where he got hurt. Perhaps it was a clue to where Dio was. Along the way, they were met with the gruesome sight of a blue car with a smashed up hood and broken front window. Blood was splattered all over one side. It was the same car the beggar had. Its owner was nowhere around.

 _So he_ did _die_ , Joaquín thought solemnly. _Damn… We should have gone with him…_

They followed Iggy for a little over an hour. As they did, something changed in the air. It brought about a wave of cold dread down his spine and a biting pressure in his very soul. It was far greater than the cloud of evil they all felt since they arrived. Iggy was leading them to somewhere truly vile. He could feel it. Sure enough, a building slowly came into view, one that emitted that nauseating evil air they were nearly choking on.

"I-I know this," muttered Joseph. "This atmosphere… This dark feeling..! This building… is from the photo!"

"Iggy," exclaimed Jean Pierre. "You found it!"

Indeed. They had finally found it. The familiar rooftop they had seen far too many times in Joseph's thoughtograph. Below it was the tall, walled-off building surrounded by palm trees within. It wasn't just any building. It's age, its regal appearance… This was a mansion. And inside was the man who gave off this powerful evil aura. Inside…

Was Dio.

Their adventure was finally drawing to a close.

Without another word they walked the perimeter of the mansion until they found its tall, iron gate open for them. "Dio's sensed our arrival," Joaquín muttered as they walked in to the front garden, their footsteps muffled by the stone path to the door. "Just like we can sense him…"

"If we carelessly enter this mansion," said Joseph, "It'll be like we're swallowed into an enemy's stomach… What should we do?"

"We go in and-" Joaquín was interrupted by the door suddenly creaking open for them. Everyone stopped for a second, expecting someone to come stepping out, but no one came. They then approached and looked inside. There was a long hall ahead of them, far too long for any normal home. "What the fuck… I can't see the end of it…" He summoned Preciosa and used his microscopic vision to zoom in. But he still couldn't find the end of it. It just went on forever.

"This can't be real," said Jean Pierre in shock. "This has to be some trick, or an illusion…"

"J-Jean Pierre, get away from there," whispered Della. "Dio's probably got a Stand user or two left to throw at us… Wait…! Someone's coming..!"

There was. It was a dapper man in a periwinkle suit, opened to show off a heart-emblazoned turtleneck beneath. His light brown, beehive-styled hair was held back by a black band. He wore golden earrings with the letters T and D together, which matched the TDT belt buckle he had. And running down his forehead across the bridge oh his nose, as well as along his chin, were a pair of blue, lined strips resembling a snakes underside. They looked so familiar.

The man wasn't walking towards them, but hovering a foot in the air and gliding at them at a high speed. He stuck his foot out and screeched to a halt, not landing at all. "Welcome, Master Joestar," he said politely. Even his southern American accent sounded familiar. We've been expecting y'all. I am this mansion's butler."

"Shut up," growled Jean Pierre. "I don't who who you are, but you're definitely no ordinary man! At any rate, we'll beat you to death!"

"Polnareff, don't be hasty," called out Joseph. But the man had already drawn out a card from nowhere and swiftly flung it at the Frenchman. Silver Chariot burst out and sliced it apart. The man's only response to this was a polite bow and introduction.

"My name is D'arby. Terrence T. D'arby."

Joaquín's eyes widened before pointing and exclaiming, "I knew it! I knew there was something familiar about you! You're that gambler D'arby's brother!"

Even his eyes were like his brothers, just as blue and just as filled with hidden deceit. "You guessed right. He is my older brother. Now, may I take your jackets? Hats?"

"Are you going to fight to avenge your older brother," asked Mohamed.

D'arby gave them an empty smile and bowed. "Don't be silly. Surely my brother has told you, 'The one who has been deceived and lost is the one at fault.' I share in that sentiment as well. My brother fought against y'all and lost, therefore he's the one at fault. I don't have the slightest bit of resentment towards any of you. My brother is him and I am me. I simply protect Lord Dio. In addition, my brother is ten years older than me… And I respected him as such.

"My generation is different from his. My brother wins through cheating and swindling. His idea of victory is an old-fashioned type, which only works on old-timers like him or amateurs. Lord Dio seems to have taken note of this as well. That is why _I_ serve by his side as his butler."

 _If he's Dio's butler_ , thought Joaquin worriedly, _then his Stand's gotta be one of the most dangerous of all the ones we've faced… We can't let our guards down at all…_

"So how about it," asked D'arby as he floated aside and bowed again. "If a fight… is what you want… then enter the mansion…"

"Do not enter just yet, everyone," warned Mohamed. "We should consider that this hallway may be an illusory trap."

"We don't have time to get our souls taken," said Joutarou almost impatiently. "Hurry and take us to Dio.

But rather than doing that, he bowed. And something shimmered in the air beside him. "Be careful, Joutarou," warned Joaquín, just as the butler's white, humanoid Stand came into view.

It looked biomechanical with an owlish face and yellow bulbs for eyes, the letters T and D tattooed beneath. Tubes ran from its cheeks to its neck. Pink hearts adorned its arms and legs in rows, matching the blue pieces of armor that covered his shoulders, arms, stomach, crotch and knees. Smoke billowed out from its small, exhaust-like ears. "Pardon me," said its user, "but my Stand… is a different type than that of my brother's."

 _He just revealed his Stand just like that… It's been a while since someone's done it directly…_

"Who'll be first," asked D'arby through is Stand, which sounded robotic and filtered. "Who'll step up as my opponent."

"I am."

To some mild shock, Della stepped forward and summoned All My Love. It wasn't like her to take an enemy head on like they did. But, as Joaquin remembered telling her last night, she had a stubborn will. And ever since she had joined them on their journey, it grew into what it was today. She didn't have to hunt someone down or wait for them to attack anymore. All she had to was take a single step, and she was ready for whatever anyone had to throw at her.

"I see," said a mildly surprised D'arby. "Well then… I'd like to make a bet first. I wager… that All My Love's first attack against me will be with her left fist." Della hesitated for a moment, as if he was right. But that didn't stop her.

" _AMOR_ ", shouted her Stand, calling his bluff and throwing a left punch. But it was a feint. Before she could even land it, the Stand instead delivered a swift right punch. And yet, her opponent swiftly avoided her blow, as if it knew she would try to pull this trick on it.

 _His Stand's fast… Almost as fast as mine and Joutarou's…_ Even Della was shocked. Too shocked to even avoid her enemy from grabbing her own Stand's arm.

"Shame, shame," D'arby, falsely lamented. "Looks like I lost that bet just now. I'm the same as my brother, loving to gamble. But I'm much more unskilled." He chuckled and tightened his grip on her. "As my apology, allow me to take you to a special world."

And then the floor beneath them opened up into a deep hole. D'arby and his Stand sank in and began to pull them through. It was a trap, and Della had fallen into it.

"Hold on," cried Joseph as Hermit Purple's vines wrapped around one arm.

" _Hierophant Green_ ," called out Noriaki, whose Stand shot out to grab the other.

"DELLA!" Joaquín summoned Preciosa and prepared to fly into the pit to break D'arby's hold of her, but his brother overtook him and jumped over the hole. Star Platinum reached in and grabbed her by the back of her collar. "GUYS, DON'T LET GO OF HER!"

"JOJO, HELP ME," he shrieked from within. Try as they might, she was only being pulled deeper in. Just as she had nearly disappeared within the darkness, D'arby hovered back up and got into Joseph's face.

"It can't be helped," he said, still polite despite his actions. "You can come along as well."

His hands and one of his Stand's shot out and immediately pulled all three of them down. Joaquín tried again to rush after them, but Mohamed forcefully held him back "W-What're you doing," he cried out. "Let me go!"

"It is too dangerous to follow after them," he grunted, trying to keep him from breaking free. "He would take us all down one by one!"

Just as the hole began to close up, Joseph's voice echoed out of it. "Avdoool! Can you hear me, Avdoool?! If we don't come back in ten minutes, set the mansion ablaze!" His voice grew further and further away. "You have to… Av… doool…"

Joaquín finally broke free and jumped to the hole, only for it to disappear beneath him. All that remained was the last vestiges of his grandfather's plea muffled by their stunned silence and the mounting worry in his heart.

Dio's counterattack has begun.

~HOL HORSE: RETIRED~

~BOINGO: REFORMED~

~ PET SHOP (1980-1989): RIP~

* * *

Originally, this was just gonna be two chapters. But without focusing on Hol Horse or Iggy's antics, I managed to reduce that. And as for... _that_ scene... I mulled over it for a while, debating on whether to make a separate thing for it as a bonus or not. And the truth is, I won't be doing that. As loving as their first time sounded, I wanted to leave open it to the reader's interpretation. I'd rather keep it that way. If you wanna read that kind of stuff, theres other SC stories out there that have that. But hopefully you guys enjoyed this chapter, smut or no smut.


	37. Sign Your Name

Hope y'all had a nice Thanksgiving, everyone! I sure did. This month might be a bit slow. Maybe. I've got the holidays and my birthday coming up soon. Turning the ol' 25. Looking forward to it all. Anyway, thank you once again for the support. Without further ado. let's continue the story.

* * *

Ch. 37  
Sign Your Name

JANUARY 16TH, 1989  
14:25  
CAIRO, EGYPT

Back when she was little, Della Brown was afraid of confrontation. It was her parents' senseless murder that made her develop that fear. She always felt that, if she confronted someone, they would come back for her and beat her to death. This persisted well into her adulthood. And yet somehow, while she avoided it, confrontation _always_ found her.

But things changed when she met Jojo. The entire time she was around him, she couldn't help but admire his bravery. Foolish and risky as it was at times, his actions were rather inspirational to her. Her fear slowly but surely melted away, and she was doing things she never thought she would be doing. It began in the dinner back then, where she threw a salt shaker at him. And her bravery slowly grew from there, from defending an innocent girl to hunting down a hospital attacker.

Now, it all came to a head when the once timid Della Brown willingly stepped forward to take on one of Dio's men. She wasn't attacked, nor were her friends. She entered the mansion on her own volition. Her bravery had reached such a peak that, should the time come, she would selflessly throw herself at Dio. For a time, she felt that it was her own Stand that brought her bravery. But looking back on the past few months, she came to an understanding that All My Love had nothing to do with it.

It was Jojo's bravery that helped her grow beyond her fears.

And yet, like her boyfriend, her actions came with risk. She had decided to call the younger D'arby's bluff, and in response, she and several of her friends were dragged into a dark pit. Joseph had called out to the others remaining to burn the mansion down should they not return. And then, the hole closed up. They soon landed on solid ground, but were surrounded in deep darkness. They couldn't see anything, but their other senses worked perfectly.

 _I can hear water nearby_ , she thought, keeping her perked. _And… it smells like the sea… Just where did he take us..?_

"I guess he captured us, then," said Joseph right nearby. "But… if this is still an illusion… Are we above ground or below?"

He received no answer, but light immediately flooded the room. Or rather, outside. They were on a small islet in the middle of the sea, barren save for a table with four TVs, a table with some wine, a cabinet, a framed door, and D'arby himself. _Where are we..? Are we… Are we still in the mansion..? Is this still an illusion or did we just get transported elsewhere..? More importantly… How did he know what I would do..?_

"D'arby knew I was gonna bluff him," she said, unmoving and staring him down. He didn't move to the right when I tried faking him out, but to the left, away from my real punch… How..?"

"It might be possible," started Joutarou, his worry hidden behind his stoic tone, "that if we don't solve that mystery… then we _will_ lose to this guy…"

It wasn't just trying to figure out this man's power. It was also trying to figure out why they were outside rather than inside. "This salty wind," mused Joseph. "And the wet sensation of the sea water… It's too impressive not to be reality… Just what is this..?"

"Would you care for a drink," D'arby asked politely, ignoring their befuddlement. "I assure you, they are real. They're not poisoned."

Joseph ignored his offer and asked him, Are we still inside the mansion?"

"That's right."

"... Where, then?"

"I cannot say."

"The basement?"

"Perhaps…"

Joseph approached the door and opened it. There was no magical exit for them. "Is this a Stand? This illusion?"

"That's right."

"Your damn Stand's power?"

"Wrong."

"Dio's?"

"Wrong."

"Whose, then?"

"I don't have to tell you that."

"According to information from the Speedwagon Foundation, there should be two to three more Stand users here besides Dio. Is that right?"

"I don't have to tell you that."

"Seems like there's plenty of answers you 'can't tell us'," Della stated. "How do we know you're telling the truth?

"You can think I'm lying," he said understandingly," but unlike my brother, I neither lie nor cheat." Joutarou scoffed, clearly not believing a word he said. Given how Daniel J. was, he had every reason not to trust the younger D'arby.

"So this means," started Joseph, "We can't move onward unless we defeat you?"

The butler bowed "Exactly."

 _This guy's starting to get on everyone's nerves_ , thought Della as she noticed how irked everyone else was by his constant, almost condescending politeness. _He's so full of confidence, just because he trapped us._ "Have you forgotten that you're surrounded four to one? We're in a rush, so all we have to do is just attack you all at once."

"Oh dear," mused D'arby, who didn't seem too worried. He stepped over to the cabinet and shot them an ominous smile. "If you rush this, y'all will end up losing. Before we get to that, allow me to show you… I believe my brother showed you his… But this… is my collection…"

And then he opened its doors. Inside was a modest collection of creepy, plastic dolls lining every wall. Each one was unique, wearing beautiful clothes, hand-stitched clothes and crafted with such incredible attention to detail. They were all so lifelike. But Della could not appreciate their beauty. Like his brother's book of poker chips, there was more to these dolls that met the eyes, and it made her feel disgust.

"While it's not much," he continued, "I collect things, just like my brother. Well, when you're proud of a collection like this, you want to show it off to others in hopes to hear their compliments about it."

"You sick bastard," growled Della, knowing his dolls' true nature. "How could you take pride in showing others the countless innocent souls you've robbed?!"

As if on cue, one of the dolls, a blonde woman in a decorated red dress, had its eye twitch to the side. She shook in place, some drool dribbling from her red lips and a tear streaking down her cheek. And then, to everyone's shock, she spoke in a tiny, pleading voice. "D'arby… Oooh… Speak to me… Terrence D'arby… Oooh… Why am I lonely..? I want you speak to me… Please speak to me..! Speak to me..!"

All of the other dolls slowly came to life, twitching and moaning their captors name. Some were even begging to be saved. It was a horrific and saddening sight.

"Oh my god," muttered Joseph.

"They're alive," gasped Noriaki. "T-These dolls are alive…"

Y-You," growled Jotarou in contempt, just as shaken as the others. "They really _are_ souls…"

"I make dolls as a hobby," explained the butler. "And dwelling within them are real human souls. To be open with you, this is my Stand's ability. My brother's collection is boring. Simply lining up those soul coins just for fun is so simple and shallow. I can enjoy mine by dressing them up and talking to them. For example…" He took the crying woman doll and stroked her cheek. His touch had a calming effect on her, his name coming from her in content sighs.

"Her name is Sonia. She was a fun woman with such splendid experiences in love. Her skin is beautiful, and she loves Chanel clothes. Right now, she's wearing something small I made for her, a Gianni Versace design. A shameless, beautiful woman wherever she goes. And over here-"

"Shut the fuck up already!" The words tumbled out of Della's mouth before she could stop herself. It took everyone off guard, even Joutarou. "Just shut up... You're no different than your brother. In fact, you're worse! You think just because you have manners makes you any less of a psychotic bastard? No! You're sickening! You and your brother's obsession with soul collecting is sick!"

D'arby didn't look too offended. He simply put the doll back and closed the cabinet. "Anyways, I think you experienced this when you played with my brother, but human souls are quite strange. When you lose, the very moment you acknowledge your own defeat, your soul's energy is brought down to nearly aim for that moment and drag out the soul! That is the principle of our Stands!"

"I thought I told you," growled Della as her Stand came out, "to shut your mouth!"

"Oh, but you better listen to me!" His smile grew more sinister. "At least, you should, Della! You've already fallen for my trap!"

"What're you talking about?!"

"Oh, Della… A while ago, I read your attack, whether it was a left punch or right punch. It left you in shock, didn't it? And _why_ was I able to read it? It's still a mystery to y'all. Well… You didn't admit defeat, but you still felt that shock… It left a weak spot in your soul. While it was just a small amount, I was still able to touch it. So, what do you think happened when I touched it..?"

She didn't quite understand what he was talking about until she felt something grasping her arm. Rolling up her sleeve, there was an imprint of D'arby's Stand's hand clutching it, right beneath her skin. It barely hurt, and while it didn't feel too foreign to her, she knew it had the strength to break it off. He sure was determined to get their souls, no matter what. But she wouldn't allow the others to risk themselves just for her.

"My Stand, Divine Atum, has left his hand digging into your soul." His Stand appeared and showed one of his hands was gone. "If I broke your arm like this, Lord Dio would be pleased, don't you think..? But the instant I do that, your friends will beat me without giving me a chance. I'd rather not have that. So how about this instead? Why don't you wager your souls on a game? If I admit total defeat, then I'll let go of your arm."

 _I guess that explains the setup_ , thought Della, glancing at the table where the TVs and game consoles rested. _The D'arbys seem to rely on games rather than raw strength. But it makes sense. The games they play, virtual or not, rely on mental fortitude and concentration. And if we let our guards down, then our soul is vulnerable to them… That's how he got a hold of me…_ _But_ _I'm not gonna break…_ _Not here…_

She approached D'arby, almost in his face, and glared him right in the eye. "Fine by me," she said with a confident edge. "I'm already in your trap, so I might as well. But I'll tell you right now, you will regret targeting me."

"You really _are_ a fiery one," he complimented unworriedly. "But I have to ask that you wait your turn. I wish to play against your friend Kakyouin first."

"Not a chance." She raised the arm his Stand was holding onto. "It's _my_ soul you're holding. It's _my_ soul I'm going to wager. I'm not letting my friends put their lives on the line just for me while I stand back and watch you take their lives. Sure, I have confidence in them, but I'll be damned if I don't finish what I started when I stepped into this mansion."

"Della," muttered Joseph, a mix of worry and appreciation over her courage. "Are you sure..?"

"Yes. Besides, I still wanna find out how my punches were read." She called back her Stand and approached the table, giving it a quick look-over. It was unlike any normal setup she had seen: four TVs, a controller connected to each, and a bizarre, futuristic console jutting out of the space in the middle connecting them all together. Several game cartridges lay nearby. "What is this..? I've never seen anything like this…"

"A Nintendo Entertainment System," answered D'arby. "The Japanese call it the Famicom. Besides dolls and gaming, I have made a habit of tinkering with gaming hardware. This is a modified console made to play on four screens at once. Of course, I had to modify these games as well. You will never find this type of unique experience elsewhere. I'm hoping to one day pitch this idea to Nintendo."

"See, why can't you just do that instead of stealing souls? You'd make quite a name for yourself." Her attention turned to the games. They were all multiplayer, and she knew a handful of them. _F-Mega_ was a one-on-one competitive racing battle game. Fast and tricky. _2-Golf_ was, as the name suggested, a golfing game. A bit boring for her tastes. Then there was _Pro Wrestling_ , a WWF-like game she beat many times before.

But she chose none of these games. While she would have a small advantage of knowing how to play, she would end up losing anyway. D'arby would be able to guess, match and overcome every move she threw at him. So she looked for a game she never played before, one she could play without her actions being read so easily. And the answer came in the form of a baseball game appropriately called _Oh! That's A Baseball_.

"This one," she proclaimed, holding the cartridge up. "I bet my soul on it!"

D'arby gave her a curt nod and uttered a familiar, "Good."

As she set the game in, Joseph's Hermit Purple wrapped around and dug into the setup. "There's no sign of trickery in the hardware or software. The TV and games are as normal as you'd find them anywhere in the world."

The butler took a seat and politely said, "I'm different than my brother. I do not cheat."

Della did the same and said," Fine by me. But if your Stand's hand does anything to me while I play, you _will_ regret it. If Joutarou can break your brothers fingers, so can I."

"You have my word. Fair warning, Della. You might have picked the baseball game, but this is actually the one _I'm_ best at."

That was the last thing she wanted to hear. But as the title screen flashed to life, she knew there was no turning back. _I've come too far to do that now. As risky as my choices are, I will never back down… There's a lot riding on this battle… I'll show this lunatic what for and beat him_ _…_

The rules of this game worked the same as regular baseball. There were nine innings, and the winner was the one with the most points. If there is a point difference of eleven or more, then it would be a cold game and an automatic victory. The first course of action was to choose the stadium to play in. She cycled through them before picking Blue Sky Stadium, the distance between center field and both ends is 120 and 95 meters.

"Now," said D'arby, "please select your team." There were only six, and she chose the first one on the list: the Jaguars, symbolized by the black wild cat against a purple flag. Her enemy looked impressed over his TV. "I see... You've chosen a team that emphasizes on offensive ability… Two of your batters have an average of 40%… Good choice… In that case, I'll choose the Red Dragons. Their competitive record against your team is 21-21. A team worthy of being the Jaguar's biggest rivals."

"Whatever," said Della indifferently. She then chose her pitcher, with a maximum pitch of 161 km/h, a power level of five and an ERA of 2.18 (whatever that meant).

"I see… You're bringing someone really tough… My pitcher's jersey number 15. Because I was born on January 5th." She still didn't care. "First bat or second..? Which would you like?"

"First."

"Okay. Jaguars bat first. Now, may you summon your Stand for a moment?"

This was an odd request, but she did so, keeping All My Love out. The screen before her went blank, keeping only the team logos. She then noticed some pixels forming above the Red Dragons logo, taking the form of Atum's head. "A little modification I added myself," explained D'arby, holding up a stylus of sorts. "I can draw our Stand's faces on our players. And here," he quickly and expertly drew a pixelated form of her fairy-like Stand's face, "is All My Love."

With everything ready, the screen showed off both teams momentarily before it split away to the playing field. "PLAY BALL," shouted a digitized voice from the game. She was ready to bat. D'arby's pitcher winded up, and before he threw it, she immediately swung. The ball flew straight and into the catcher's mitt. "STRIKE!"

"H-Hey," exclaimed Joseph. "What the hell was that just now..? Why did you bat early..? You swung before the ball even left his hand!"

Her only response was to keep swinging. It wasn't just to practice. In fact, she already had an idea on how to play. But this was all a ruse. She had a plan. Her only hope was that D'arby didn't catch on.

" _Della, what're you trying to do now_ ," asked Noriaki worriedly.

"Don't tell me," mused a disbelieving Joseph, "you've never played a baseball game… no..! Have you ever played _any_ video game before?!"

"Don't screw up," grunted Joutarou, who wasn't as worried as the others but could clearly tell she was up to something.

She only smiled and said, "I know the rules. I'm just trying to learn how to play."

Joseph's jaw dropped before he lost his composure on her. He got by her face and nearly screamed, "Your timing is way off and your swings are clumsy! With how you're playing, of course you're a beginner at this game!" During this, the pitcher threw again. This time, Della swung after the ball was caught, just as she got a second strike. The old man looked livid and shiny with sweat. "My god, you're an amateur! How can you have chosen a game you never played before?!"

"STRIKE THREE," exclaimed the game. "BATTER OUT!"

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME, DELLA!" He was now screaming and clutching her by her shoulders. "WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?! YOU ALREADY BET YOUR OWN SOUL! YOU CAN'T BACK OUT OF THIS NOW!"

"You think I don't know that," asked Della, smirking up at him. "It's only the top of the first inning. Have a bit of confidence in me, Mr. Joestar. I got this. I know what I'm doing."

Before Joseph could argue, an irked D'arby spoke up and said, "Della… Let's say, for argument's sake… that you're pretending to be an amateur as your strategy to catch me off guard… Let me advise you that it's useless. I won't be letting my guard down any time soon. Even if they're a baby at this, I'll defeat any opponent who bet their soul with my full power."

"I really haven't played this game." She smiled to her opponent. "But I'm confident I can beat you in it if I keep playing."

"Fine by me. Just don't forget the rules."

And so she continued to play as horribly as she was before. She had a general idea how to play, but she continued to exaggerate the fact that she was a newcomer. It was all part of her plan, which she prayed would work Her next batter was struck out, much to Joseph's dismay. Joutarou and Noriaki stood beside her, watching with intent and without worry. Perhaps they had caught on. She daren't ask, however. Right now she was focused solely on the game.

"STRIKE," cried the game's digitized announcer.

"STRIKE TWO," he cried again.

"Top of the first inning," mused D'arby confidently. "Two strikes, two outs, no ball…. And here's… the pitch…"

And just as his pitcher winded up his ball, Della casually announced, "Hey, I just learned how to bat!" It had the desired effect. D'arby's confidence faltered as the ball was thrown. Her batter didn't miss this time, but smacked it away.

"Holy shit," exclaimed Joseph.

" _Nice swing_ ," complimented Noriaki.

"It's going out of the park," Joutarou pointed out. One of the outfielders tried to chase it down, but to no avail. The ball went over the fence, and the screen shone with the two very victorious words: HOME-RUN.

"HOME-RUN! IT'S A HOME-RUN!" Joseph broke out in relieved hysterics and hugged Della. The plan had worked. If she can keep this up, she would undoubtedly win.

But the only person not celebrating was D'arby, who leaned over and barked, "Della! What did you just say?! You 'learned'?! You 'just learned how to bat'?!"

"I'm not gonna repeat myself," she teased. "Now let's keep playing. This game's pretty fun."

Her words were getting under his skin. The hand beneath her skin trembled in anger. But the younger D'arby did not back down. He kept his composure all throughout, even as she scored herself three more home-runs. Joseph's worries melted away, giving way to excitement and cockiness with each and every hit she landed. It got to where he got in her opponents face and started to openly threaten him.

"Alright, D'arby," he sneered. "I doubt you'll listen, but I'll give you a fair warning. If you let us go and guide us to where Dio is… we _might_ spare your life."

He was silent and unfazed, but he set his controller down to speak with them. "My brother… was a gambling genius…. and a cheater as well… He would travel the world in pursuit of gambling thrills, winning a lot of money and claiming souls for his collection… He thought it was his purpose in life. However, ever since we were born, he has never said to me, 'Hey, brother… why don't we… play some poker?' He never did.

"Ordinary brothers would usually play games, right? But he never had time to face a good opponent such as myself. Not once. Do you know why?" Nobody responded. "When I was fifteen, my brother had a thing for my girlfriend. We're ten years apart, mind you. So kicked him until his ribs were broken and he threw up blood. All he had to say at the time was that he was at fault. Do you know why?"

" _Get to the point_ ," said Noriaki mildly.

"As a child, my brother knew he could never win against me. There was a reason why he couldn't. And now, while Della Brown might have knocked some out of the park, she's actually very worried, just like my brother once was when he was little."

He wasn't wrong. In fact, Della openly admitted it. "You're right, D'arby. I _am_ worried. Especially about your power. But that's still not gonna stop me from trying to beat you."

"You're confidence will soon run out." He turned back to his screen. "Let's continue! I'm substituting pitchers! From jersey number 15 to 77!" And so he did, to a weaker, yet faster pitcher. "And now, I'll announce my pitch! From now on, I'll throw a fork ball right down the middle!"

 _Why would he just announce that all of a sudden_ , she wondered. _Is he trying to bluff me? Should I trust him or... No… He hasn't lied… At least, not yet… I'll hit his fork ball… Yes…_ "Just do it, then."

She was ready to hit a fork ball. The pitcher winded up and immediately threw, straight down the middle. And fast. But would it fall or not? Will it fork? It didn't, and by the time Della realized it, she had already swung. It didn't connect too well, the bat hitting a pop fly. The ball didn't fly far before one of the Red Dragons caught it.

"OUT! CHANGE!"

 _He changed it… He changed it as I was was ready to hit a fork ball… D'arby knew… Just like he knew which hand All My Love was gonna hit him with… How the hell did he know..?_ She pushed the thought aside for now, her focus back on the game. D'arby's batter held out his bat and aimed it to he left of the field.

"This," he announced, "is my home-run call! Are you going to throw it into an inner corner? Lower than that? Then I'll knock it into the left stands."

" _Another call_ ," mused Noriaki. " _Joestar-san, are you certain nothing in the console and game are rigged?_ "

"Absolutely nothing," confirmed Joseph. "Nothing at all… And we've been keeping an eye on him for any cheating…"

Which meant something else was at work, undoubtedly his Stand. It had a secondary ability besides stealing souls. She had an idea on what it was. But she needed proof. She looked back at the game and aimed the the ball cursor directly against the batter. If all things went right, she would only hit him. Once it was set, she charged her pitch and tossed it.

And to everyone's surprise, he moved out of the way and batted it out of the field. Her opponent chuckled and gloated, "My first point." And so, Della's theory was right. _His Stand can read thoughts. Nobody else has been able to do that. Not even his brother… This is bad… I may have to change my plan…_

"D-Damnit," muttered Joseph as D'arby's next batter taunted her. Another home-run call..!"

"This time," he announced with another chuckle, "shall be the outside corner, okay?" She aimed this time for a low straight. And just as she charged her throw, he predicted her throw. "And you'll throw low, correct? A straight… correct?"

He did it again. His batter scored again. This went beyond reading a player. D'arby's Stand was able to accurately predict her pitch. There was no doubting it now. And as he earned another run and raised the score 4-3, he biggest question that ran through her mind was how to stop this? How does she prevent him from reading her mind? Unless…

 _Maybe I can trick him_ , she wondered. _I can still win this fight…_

"Heh heh heh… Looks like I turned this game around quicker than I thought… So, what's next? Inside corner? Straight down the middle? A high ball? A curve ball? Where will you throw it?

 _Just think like the boys… Trick him… Let him think you're cheating…_ _break him…_

"Hey, Joutarou," she said, turning to the youth. "Can I borrow your cap?" Joutarou raised and eyebrow but complied and handed it to her. She then put it on her head and tilted it over her eyes, making the visor obscure them from her opponent.

"You fool," scoffed D'arby. "Do you really think I'm playing as dishonestly as my brother would?"

"Della, that's not it, argued Joseph. "Hiding your eyes with that cap is useless!"

"J _oestar-san is right_ ," Noriaki agreed. " _He's not looking at the television screen's reflection in your eyes. Moreover, he can't possibly hear which buttons you press on the controller or where the cursor is going. He's not cheating at all._ "

"We've been watching him for a while now," added Joutarou. "So why…"

Della didn't even look at them when she explained, "The heat's getting to my head. And I need to concentrate on this game. Anyway, let's not keep D'arby waiting." She glanced up at him and smiled. " _I'm_ gonna call my pitch next. High, outside corner, straight."

Everyone looked surprised, Even D'arby. But none more surprised than Joseph. "W-What?! What did you just say?!"

"You heard me." She tipped the cap up and winked at him. "You're hearing must be going, Mr. Joestar. I'm making a call… High, outside corner, straight." The old man looked both worried and confused for a moment, but after a second, there was a knowing gleam in his eye. _He's caught on to my plan… Let's hope the gamer here doesn't._ "So, do you believe me, or not?"

Said gamer sneered and muttered, "You foolish… bitch… You said a straight, high and to the outside?"

 _Damn straight._ "Here comes the pitch." She winded up and threw her ball. But D'arby looked confident. He undoubtedly read her mind again, and was ready to score another point.

"Don't forget, if there's a point difference of eleven, then- WHAT?!"

The ball she had thrown wasn't a high, outside straight like she had called, but it instead went low and curved. Her actions betrayed her thoughts and caught D'arby off guard. He still hit it, but it rolled its way to the third baseman, who threw it to first base and netted an-

"OUT!"

 _Yes_ , she cheered in her head. _It's working!_ "My next throw's gonna be the same." D'arby's eyes widened in shock. "Straight, high and outside." _Yessir, it is!_ His eyes widened more, a nervous sweat beginning to break out.

"Della," he growled. "Don't tell me… you're actually cheating me, aren't you?!"

She didn't speak. _I'd like to think I am._

"WHAT?!" His response was exactly as if she read her mind. The next ball was thrown, an inside, low fork ball. It struck, a pitcher fly, caught by the same player that threw it. Another out for the Red Dragons. At this point, D'arby rose from his seat and barked, "Cheater! Della, you bitch! You tampered with the console, didn't you?!"

 _Of course not._

D'arby didn't seem to believe her. Or perhaps he did. "I _know_ you're cheating! Tell me how you're doing it!"

Silence, just as she had been remaining this whole time. But it looked as if he didn't get any answer at all this time. And in this moment, everything came to light. "So that's how it works," Della realized. "Divine Atum's secondary power… You can read minds, but only for yes or no questions. But it's like your big brother said. 'You can't call it cheating if you don't notice it.'"

To have his own brother's words thrown back at him made the man grit his teeth in fury. He was being outsmarted, and he could do nothing about it. "How dare you use that against me so shamelessly… You flippant little… Just who the fuck do you think you are..?! Go ahead and throw! Throw, Della Brown! I'll uncover your cheat and drag out your soul!"

"Are you done" whispered Della with an eager edge to her voice."Then let's keep playing. My call's the same as before." _Straight. High and outside._

And this time, despite her call, it changed once more. A fork ball, one that D'arby tried hitting away, only to result in another out With three outs, it was time to change to the next inning. And at this point, he was a panting, sweaty mess. His disbelief and internal struggle was almost satisfying to watch. He had yet to see what she had done. Everything was working perfectly.

With a smile and a tilt of Joutarou's cap, she pointed at him and confidently said, "You're gonna lose, Terrence."

"BOISTEROUS BITCH!" D'arby reached out and slapped the cap off her head, with no change to her smile at all. "PUTTING THAT CAP ON WAS TOO SUSPICIOUS! The moment you did that was when the cheating began! STAND UP! I'm checking your seat and controller!" She complied and moved out of his way. He looked all over, even under the set-up, but to his dismay he couldn't find anything.

"Sorry about the hat," apologized Della as she picked it back up and returned it to its owner.

"No problem," assured Joutarou. "You looked cool in it."

"D-Damnit," mused D'arby, almost at wit's end. "I don't understand… I don't understand..!" He glared back at them and pointed at the cap, a manic look on his face "That's it! That cap's exactly how you cheated! Isn't it?! Ah ha ha ha ha ha!"

Della shook her head. _Nope_ , she thought, which cut his laughter short.

" _T-This_ is how you're cheating!" He slammed his hand on her TV screen. "It's around here!"

 _Nope._

"Y-You're using All My Love to cheat! Isn't it just as fast as Star Platinum and Preciosa?!"

 _Close, but still no._

His patience was running thin, his hands slamming on the table and his voice now a scream again. "I KNOW YOU'RE CHEATING! ADMIT IT, DELLA!"

She smiled. _You're goddamn right I am._ The whole situation was almost too much for the younger D'arby. He was stressing out badly. He still hadn't figured out how he was being played, and it was taking a massive toll on his youth. He no longer looked like a young man, but older, like a man in his late forties. It was a miracle his hair hadn't grayed out. "It's still your turn," reminded Della. "Hurry and pitch."

Her opponent slowly returned to his seat, still panting and sweating. "Four… to three," he muttered desperately. "Just one point… and I can turn it around… I'm a gaming genius… I'm undefeatable… I'm a gaming genius..! I'm undefeatable..!"

But he was tricked once again when Della scored her fifth run of the game. The Jaguar's were winning 5-3.

D'arby looked devastated.

He swayed in his seat. And, in his moment of weakness, the hand around Della's arm was removed. "S-Shit," he gasped. I-I accidentally let go of her soul!"

"Hey, you're right," she happily announced, rolling back her sleeve. Atum's imprint beneath her skin was gone. "That means I won!"

"N-No, no! I didn't admit defeat! It was an accident! I accidentally let go of your soul!"

"Oh, don't make excuses." She stood up and laughed rather condescendingly at him. "You lost the same way your brother did. You admitted defeat in your heart. Therefore, you forfeited my soul!"

"I-I still don't… HUH?!" He looked over at her setup and went pale. He couldn't have seen it normally, but looking now,. he saw how she actually cheated. Wrapped around her controller was none other than Hermit Purple. "Y-You mean... That was it..?!"

Joseph looked back and realized he had left his Stand out. "Oh, oops... Shit…"

"S-Such a trick… was the cheat..?! The controller… Damnit… It wasn't being used by you, Della… but by you! Joseph Joestar!

Her thoughts were probably the same as Joseph's. _Yes it was. And you fell for it._ "That's right, D'arby," she admitted, although she felt he already found out. "I figured that, if you were reading my mind, I had to find a way to counter it. But I couldn't just change my mind at the last second, otherwise you'd know. So I hinted to Mr. Joestar what I wanted to do. That is, for me to think of my pitch and for him to throw a completely different one. I'm pretty sure your _brother_ could have figured that out."

With no more arguing, he fell to his knees, beaten at his own game. Della was proud of herself. A crazy, nearly impossible plan that only a Joestar would come up with, and she was the one to pull it off. It was a spectacular victory, one even they would be proud of.

"Thanks for catching on, Mr. Joestar," she said as everyone gathered together. "That was pretty intense."

"Who would have thought you'd come up with something that insane," said Joseph with pride. "That's something I'd expect from my grandchildren!"

Joutarou tipped his cap and smiled. "I figured it out the minute you asked for my cap. You're a smart one, Della."

" _You were very brave to take him on yourself_ ," admitted Noriaki. " _Had I played, I would have chosen a game I knew… And who knows what would have happened then… Thank you_."

Della covered her cheeks and blushed. "Oh, you guys… Stop…"

"Damnit… From behind…"

They nearly forgot about D'arby, who sounded as if he was going to strike them unaware. But they wouldn't have it. "Now then," muttered Joseph as they all turned around, scaring the gamer with their dark gazes. "All that's left is to figure out what we do with you."

"F-Forgive me," he nervously pleaded. "I gave back Della's soul! She's not in my grasp anymore! Y-You'll forgive me, right..? Right..? Right..?!"

"Should I," asked Della delicately. "After what you wanted to do? Mr. Joestar said he would _consider_ sparing you, but why don't you use your Stand to figure the answer out yourself."

 _No, no, no, no, no!_ He shrieked, having just figured it out.

"Now, let's put this to bed, shall we?" She summoned All My Love, her fists clenched and ready to strike. "Left or right? Which one will it be?"

"I-I think it's the left," he whimpered, "that you'll use..?"

 _No, no, no, no, no!_

"T-The right..?"

 _No, no, no, no, no!_

His eyes widened "B-Both of them..?!"

 _Yes, yes, yes, yes!_

 _YES!_

"A-Are you gonna do that ' _AMOR AMOR_ ' thing?!"

"Yes, yes, yes," muttered Joseph, his head on his hand in exasperation. "Oh my god…"

Sure enough, All My Love unleashed a stream of " _AMORAMORAMOR_ " and pounded away at the younger of the D'arby brothers with all her might. She made sure he felt enough pain before shouting one more " _AMORE!_ " and punching him into the distance. He went flying and screaming, but rather than landing in another island, something unexpected happened. He crashed into the sky and left a man-sized hole in midair, like something out of a cartoon.

"What the hell," Joutarou whispered.

"It looks like he was punched into a wall," Joseph pointed out. "It's as I thought… This hallucinatory world is a room somewhere in the mansion…"

"So what're we waiting for," asked Della, who ran off towards the hole. "Let's get out of here and get back with the others! We've got a mission to finish!"

~+JO*JO+~

"Forgive me for disturbing your slumber… As I'm certain you know… the Joestars have entered the mansion about ten minutes ago… Furthermore… I must report that D'arby has been defeated…

"..."

"D'arby…"

"..."

"... was a genius… While he had the capability of winning, why do you think he lost..? Enter, Vanilla Ice…"

"...

"Pardon me…"

"... The Joestars… They seem to believe, in the bottom of their hearts, that they can give up their lives to save their mother… his daughter… Even Kakyouin and… er… yes, Avdol and Polnareff… Even they think they can defeat me, Dio, in exchange for their lives… They all believe that, by running from me, Dio, they are really running from their own lives… How ridiculous…"

"..."

"However, these foolish thoughts are quite important. That man, D'arby, may have openly sworn fealty, but he was not prepared to die for me, Dio… Therefore, with that bit of thinking, he couldn't claim his victory… D'arby will never understand why he lost…"

"... Ice… Behold the scar upon my neck… If I were to, perhaps, drink the blood of one more person, then this wound shall be completely healed… And this body of Jonathan Joestar's, which I've yet to be accustomed to… shall be completely mine… Ice… may you offer your lifeblood to me..?"

"Yes… With pleasure…"

"..."

"Please accept this!"

"...

"You decapitated yourself for me… I am happy… However, Vanilla Ice… I cannot accept this lifeblood of yours… Someone else will be used to heal my wound… There is no need for you to die… My blood… Shall restore you… If it is you… you will definitely win…"

"...!

"... Lord… Dio…"

"It'd be best if the body was your own… You will familiarize yourself with it inn due time… I leave them to you… Vanilla Ice…"

"... Lord… Dio… Your expectations… shall be fulfilled… I will surely kill them… I shall… see to it…"

"..."

"USHAAA! GWOAAA! OGOAAA!"

"...

"At least leave through the door… Your Stand can disappear completely from the space of this world…"

"... He has such an abnormal, yet undying loyalty to you… He has hardly known you his entire life, and yet he would give his life to you… Are they all truly drawn to you through gravity, as you've said..?"

"I believe so. And yet… I wonder… if his loyalty could be a substitution for resolve… I don't know… I don't know whether I can call it resolve… Could anyone equate abnormal loyalty with that and preparedness..? Or are they two completely different things… Lennox… Do you believe that his type of loyalty… is something unsuitable for heaven..?"

"... I do not know… We will just have to wait and see… After all… in reviving him, you did make him substantially weaker.

"... He may find a way to overcome that loss… I have faith in him and his Stand… The miasma of emptiness… Cream…"

~+JO*JO+~

He had been sitting outside with the others right at the entrance. While the others waited with bated breath, Joaquín was using his solely to channel his _hamon_. Not only was he using it to ease his nerves, but he was using it to count down how long it would take before they could enter. _Ten minutes_ , he thought. Abuelito _told us we had to wait ten minutes before we can go in… I would have thought they'd be back by now, but… They haven't… Guys… Della… Please, please be okay…_

After exhaling for five minutes (having inhaled for five beforehand), Joaquín rose and cracked his knuckles. "Time's up," he grunted. "It's been ten minutes and nobody's back. I'm going in."

"You're serious, aren't you," asked Jean Pierre worriedly, scrambling to his feet. "You don't think we should wait a bit longer, should we?"

"No. You heard _Abuelito_. We go in if they don't return. And we do what we came here to do… find Dio and finish him off…" He turned to them, his eyes blazing with determination. "I'm heading inside. And I'm not coming out until I find him. As for the others… I'm certain they're okay… Now, will you guys come with me?."

The Frenchman's brow furrowed, the concern leaving his face. "Of course I'm going to join! I promised I would help defeat him! I'm not going back on my word!"

"Mohamed? What about you?"

The fortuneteller's gaze was hardened as well. He was determined, but he looked as though something was weighing on him. "Gentlemen," he said cautiously. "Before you rush in, I have but one thing to say… If either of you go missing within this mansion, or even if you are injured… I cannot help you… Iggy… This goes for you too…"

Both friends looked back at him, but neither with any contempt. This wasn't an unusual thing to say, but it held much weight to it. Throughout their entire adventure, Mohamed had always managed to save them just in the nick of time. Back in India and on the island. He always had their back. But here, within the heart of the beast, it was no longer a guarantee.

"This may sound cruel, but our journey has always been to defeat Dio… Whether I am slain or separated from you both, I want you to promise me that you will not come to my aid. We must think of our own safety first. We must all avoid being taken out just for trying to help one person."

"It's not cold at all," Joaquín said understandingly. "You're right. It's not every man for himself, but when it comes to our lives, we can't just risk it so blindly… This is Dio and his men we're facing… Any one of us could die… When the time comes, we'll have to save ourselves… To be honest, I wouldn't put it against any of ou if I got into a big fight and you both ran. I'd rather know you can fight in my stead should something bad happen."

"As would I," agreed Jean Pierre. "Both of you…" He stuck his hands out to them both. Joaquín and Mohamed took them, and then one anothers'. "It's been a blast… These past few weeks… I'm glad I got to spend them fighting by your side."

They all smiled. It had indeed been quite the journey. Nearly fifty days travelling all across the Eastern world. And he got to do it with the best company he could ask for. Three great friends, his grandfather, his brother, and his girlfriend. Joaquín couldn't have asked for better company. He was just as proud as the Frenchman was to throw himself into the lion's den to end their long and bizarre adventure.

"If we come out of this alive, I'll treat everyone to a great dinner. I promise."

"And to Iggy as well," said Mohamed happily.

"Alright then," exclaimed Joaquín, stepping up to the door and looking down the endless hallway. "Let's go for it, guys! Preciosa!"

His Stand, along with Silver Chariot emerged as everyone pressed against the walls. The Preciosa rapped his knuckles against them as Chariot's rapier tapped the floor. They were searching for hollow points in the floor, just in case there was another hole. When it was safe, everyone moved up several feet and continued the process several times. They were no closer to the end of the corridor, however.

Looking into one of the entrances he was beside, Joaquín beheld an unnerving sight. Stairs upon stairs, leading up and down, through arches and into nothingness. It was a maze that would make M. C. Escher proud. "This is bad," he muttered as they walked in. "It looks like it all just goes on forever…"

"Mr. Joestar asked me to set the mansion ablaze," said Mohamed thoughtfully. "However, It is too dangerous to set fire to such a vast maze… Therefore… Magician's Red!" His flaming Stand burst to life beside him. His beak opened to exhale a small fireball into his hands, which opened to form a bizarre weather vane that burned in six directions. "This flame can detect lifeforms… Humans, the breathing of an animal, cutaneous respiration-"

"Cutaneous what," asked a confused Jean Pierre.

"Things that breath through their skin," answered Joaquín. "Like frogs. Learned that in high school."

As the flame hovered before them, the fortuneteller continued "It can sense the movement of objects. Even the movements of Stand energy. We follow it into the maze. Mr. Joestar and the others were taken underground… Let's head downwards."

The group followed him and the flames into the seemingly endless maze. The flames did not react yet. According to Mohamed, each flame pointed to a specific direction: left, right, forward, backwards, up and down. It can sense things within 15 meters. If it finds something hiding from them, the flames would grow in whatever direction it is. Sure enough, after Mohamed explained this, two of the flames burned fiercer than before.

"The flames have reacted sooner than I thought," he announced in a whisper. "There is something forward and to the left."

Everyone kept their guard up, paying attention to where the flames directed them. Even Iggy stood his ground. But Joaquín could hear his snuffling, as if he was trying to find whatever they had sensed. Sure enough, the moment he picked something up, The Fool materialized and revved forward. Its claws slashed one of the walls of the arches. It crumbled and revealed a squat little man with a bleeding slash across his chest, howling as he tumbled out.

"Hey, hey," exclaimed Jean Pierre as they approached the fallen man. "Who the hell is this guy?" It didn't matter. With this man's defeat, the entire room changed. The multitude of stairs faded away until they were left a large room with a billiards table. A grand staircase lay before them. The Frenchman was left awestruck. "The mansion's maze! It's gone!"

"Our little attacker here must have been using a Stand," said Joaquín. "There's no other reason why." He turned to Iggy and flashed a smile. "Good job, boy. Couldn't have found him without you." To which the Boston terrier barked proudly.

With everything back to normal and the flames no longer reacting, everyone could finally return to searching for the others. But as Iggy and Jean Pierre went on, Joaquín noticed that Mohamed had stopped in his tracks. He was looking at something on the wall his hand rested on. "Mohamed, what is it," he asked. But he didn't reply, his gaze only on what looked like scratches. Upon closer inspection, he saw that it was a sentence.

 _When you look at this writing and turn to look behind you, you will-_

The last word was obscured by Mohamed's thumb. But somehow, he knew what it was. They both did. There was only one way such a sentence would end, even before he moved it aside:

 _Die._

 _There's nobody else here_ , Joaquín thought, looking around the otherwise empty room. _Either Iggy or the flames would have detected someone already. Even Preciosa's hearing could pick up any noise… So where…_

And then, they felt it. An indescribable, yet intense killing intent growing right behind them. The two turned around and beheld a terrifying sight, a pale, black-hooded beast with its lower half swallowed by its fanged mouth. It was floating in midair and surrounded by a rippling sphere of air. _W-What the fuck is that?! A Stand?! But that's impossible..! Nobody sensed it..! I didn't hear it..! Where did it come from..?!_

Before he could run, Mohamed suddenly swung his fist and screamed, "EVERYONE, LOOK OUT!" Joaquín had no chance to react as he was punched right into the other two. And as he fell, he was able to see Mohamed for a brief moment. Time seemed to have slowed down for him. The creature had lunged towards him and disappeared. And the fortuneteller…

Had vanished. All that remained were a pair of bangled arms falling lifelessly to the floor.

He was gone.

He was _dead_.

And when Joaquín realized what had happened, all he could do was scream his name in grief-stricken terror.

"MOHAMED AVDOOOL!"

~TERRENCE T. D'ARBY: RETIRED~

~KENNY G.: RETIRED~

~MOHAMED AVDOL (1961-1989): RIP~

* * *

I could not save the death for the next chapter. I _could not_. I felt that it would have a bigger impact if I did it now. That's why I changed perspectives back to Joaquin, so that this would be possible. It's the perfect set-up for the next, chilling chapter in this story.

So, for the fight with D'arby being cut down... That came down to two things. One, it's a long enough arc as is. I don't wanna make this story longer than it already is. And two, Della has grown since we first met her. And given it was her that stepped inside and whose soul was grabbed, it would make sense that she would put herself on the line for her friends and prove herself capable of handling top Stand users. She's come a long way, really.

Also, I made a boo boo. I made Kenny G. a vampire in this, cause I thought Over Heaven mentioned him being one. It doesn't look like he was at all. I ended up fixing this.


	38. Ice Cold

Here it is, the chapter I'm sure a lot of you have been dreading. I'll admit that I was in tears near the end. I felt like I captured that scene perfectly, given the characters I had used. And if I actually make you guys cry, then I'll know I've done my duty to tug at your heartstrings. As always, please enjoy this chapter.

* * *

Ch. 38  
Ice Cold

JANUARY 16TH, 1989  
14:40  
CAIRO, EGYPT

"M-My lord! I-I have the most exciting news!"

"... Speak, Nimrod."

"Well… some bad news first… One of the groups that had been split up… Joaquín, Avdol, Polnareff and Iggy… Well… They eliminated Kenny G…"

"... So his Tenor Sax's illusion has been dispelled… And what of the good news..?"

"Ah, yes! Well, Vanilla Ice… He's done it..! He's killed off Avdol!"

"... Are you certain he has been killed..?"

"Indeed! Swallowed into the subspace of his Stand! There is nothing left but his arms!"

"... After all the sacrifices I have endured… I have finally managed to snatch something meaningful to them… The life of the fortuneteller… It may be a last moment victory, but it is pleasing to hear nonetheless…"

"Vanilla Ice is engaging the others as we speak! With his power, he'll certainly kill the others!"

"... And what of you, Nimrod..?"

"I? I-I shall engage the others myself! I'll return with their blood, my lord!"

"...

"You know, with him being a vampire, and with no physical strength to him, he is bound to fail.

"Of course… But seeing as we have come this far, it is too late to stop him… A shame… He is the last of my experiments… Only this time, he is a failure…"

"You realize that he isn't as undyingly loyal to you as that monster Vanilla Ice, correct? If the opportunity arises, he may betray you."

"... Until such a moment arises, I shall respect him as one of my own…"

~+JO*JO+~

Instantaneous.

That's how fast it had happened. Nobody had time to react to Mohamed's warning before Joaquín was punched into the others. And then, when he knew what had happened, it was too late. He couldn't have stopped it if he tried. And he knew that his friend, the man he had come to know for over fifty days, would not have wanted him to.

 _Mohamed… This can't be happening… You said… You can't be dead..! You can't be!_

But there was no denying it. The reality of the situation hit him as hard as that punch. He was gone. It wasn't like back in India, where a bullet simply grazed his head and left him unconscious. He wasn't going to magically reappear and burn their enemy to ashes. Mohamed was wiped completely from this world. He would never come back.

They all landed a few feet away, right against a wall. Jean Pierre and Iggy slowly got up, but Joaquín only stood to his knees. His mind was reeling and his heart was aching from what happened. He was left in shock over his friend's untimely fate. There was no fight or anything, nothing to even show what had just happened. All except for what remained on the spot he had been taken: his two arms severed at the elbows, the gold bangles that wrapped around them, and scraps of his robe.

"H-Hey, Avdol," said Jean Pierre with fear rising in his voice. "Where are you..? W-What the hell was that just now..?" There was no response. He then noticed the arms and started to shake. "W-What the… T-Those arms… H-Hey! Avdol! Where did you go?!"

The deadly silence hanging in the air was all that answered him. The only noise they could hear was the frightful panting that came from Iggy, who felt the mounting pressure as much as they did

"Avdol!"

"J-Jean Pierre," Joaquín pleaded shakily, still dumbstruck.

"AVDOOL!" The Frenchman's scream reverberated all around the room. But it was in vain. There was still only silence. However, the same Stand that killed Mohamed manifested out of nowhere, right over the arms. Looking closer, Joaquín could see its dead, lamp-like eyes and the pink horns tearing through its hood. It gagged out its clawed hands from within its mouth but kept the rest of itself in its mouth.

"W-What is that..? Where did it come from..? Why didn't the flames detect it..? Why couldn't Iggy sniff it out?!

"Jean Pierre," he said again, this time louder. "H-He's not coming back…"

"What do you mean he's not coming back," he shot at him. "He told us to watch out and just disappeared! Where did he go?!"

As he opened his mouth, ready to deliver the horrible news, a voice echoed from the Stand. It was emotionless, filled with the same frigid bloodlust he felt when it had first appeared.

"Mohamed Avdol," it said as it picked up their fallen friend's arms and held them out, "… is dead, reduced to pieces. Where the inside of my mouth leads to, I don't know… But I know it's a dark space. He has been blown away there… You're all next… Your pretentious thoughts of defeating Lord Dio… I must correct them…" He then stuffed the arms in his mouth, where they were utterly eradicated. The final remains of the fortuneteller was gone.

From within the dark void of its mouth, a man's head slowly emerged from within. He was with sharp, maroon eyes, his empty face framed in long blue hair. His golden, heart-shaped earrings matched the crest of his headband. The same voice from before emerged straight from him as he rose out. "One by one… turn by turn… I, Vanilla Ice, will scatter you within my dark void…"

The pressure was reaching its peak. His presence was as dark and imposing as Dio, and his ability was the most dangerous of anyone they had fought. It was nothing they could properly fight. They needed to run. But seeing the man who took the life of one of their own dispelled all the fear and shock in Joaquín's heart. Burning bright and powerful in its place was nothing but hatred and anger towards him. He wanted to make him pay with his life, no matter what.

"You fucking... piece of shit," growled Joaquín, slowly rising to his feet. His eyes were locked solely on their enemy, who stared emptily back. "You… are nothing but pure scum…I.. I can never forgive you… And I… WILL FUCKING MURDER YOU!"

"PUTAIN DE MENTEUR," roared Jean Pierre. Both their Stands burst out of them. While Preciosa flew at him, Silver Chariot had zipped right behind Vanilla Ice. Joaquín nearly forgot how fast it was, but he set it aside when both of them punched and stabbed right into it. He disappeared in the middle of the attack, but it didn't matter. They let loose all their anger and tore through the room, from its chairs, to the walls, to even the billiards table. Whatever they reached broke under their fury.

When it was over, they were left in silence and rubble. The entire room had been torn apart from the magnitude of their rage, as if a bomb had suddenly gone off. In a sense, it did. And as the dust settled over the wreckage, Joaquín swore loudly. "FUCK! We didn't kill him..!"

"No, but we hit _did_ hit him," assured Jean Pierre. "But at that moment, he just shrunk and disappeared into nothingness..! Both him and his Stand had… had… Oh god..!" He leaned against one of the pillar-like protrusions on the wall and held his head. It looked like he finally realized what had just happened. "He… He's really…"

Joaquín nodded somberly. "I saw it… Completely wiped away… There was no way he could have survived…"

"He… He told us… to think only of ourselves… that he wouldn't save us..! It was the same as in India..! Always sticking his neck in when he didn't need to..!"

"He did it for us… Jean Pierre…" He rested a hand on his shoulder. "He did it so we can keep fighting…That's all we can do now… We can mourn him later… But right now, we have to keep going and find that fucker… And we can do it together… All of us…"

His eyes were watering, and so was his friend. The pain was greater than any injury they've endured, but this was not the time. Joaquín was right, he knew he was. And when he nodded, it was a sign that his words got through to him. He stepped off the wall, and before they knew it, a large scoop of it disappeared. No sound, no warning. It just vanished.

Vanilla Ice had struck again.

"We have to go, now," he shouted, grabbing Iggy and running out of the room. Jean Pierre stood for a moment to look at the chunk of missing wall before joining them. They quickly entered a storage room, filled with assorted chairs and other forgotten decorations. The Frenchman shut the door behind him and barred it with whatever he could find before getting away from it. Sure enough, they could hear the blockade being torn through by the space-erasing Stand.

It didn't even stop there. As they climbed up the stairs, their enemy tore right into them. Twice. But they managed to avoid each attempt on their lives. They had reached a tiny dining area before tearing out of it. The entrance to the mansion lied before them, no longer warped by the illusion from minutes prior. There was another staircase right in front of it. _It's still open for us_ , thought Joaquín. _But I'm not running away… None of us are..! We're not leaving until we kill Dio..!_

"Upstairs," he barked, leading the others up them and into a large, hall filled with suits of armor and statues. Another door rested at its end, as well as yet another large stairway. The air felt cold and evil here. Dio was waiting nearby for them. He could feel it. And he had a sneaking suspicion he lied upstairs, waiting for them to approach him. As much as he wanted to confront him now, there was a more pressing problem at the moment:

Vanilla Ice, whose Stand tore out from the floor before them.

"He's here!" Everyone's Stands came out, even The Fool. "Jean Pierre, watch my six! Our Stands can watch our sides! Iggy, on our backs!" They all gathered around one another and watched the entire room. They may have been in danger, but there was no other strategy he could think of. Their foe was completely invisible. He could appear anywhere. Even below them. And they would never know until it was too late.

 _How the fuck can we fight something we can't sense_ , Joaquín wondered nervously.

"COME OUT HERE, DAMNIT," Jean Pierre heatedly roared."I'LL CUT YOU APART! MY CHARIOT IS FASTER NOW! YOU PUSHED ME TO THE BOILING POINT OF FURY BECAUSE OF WHAT YOU DID!"

There was no response. All they could feel was the cold dread that filled the hall. But Joaquín swore the moment they saw the Stand, he would unleash the same fury on it he tried before. Just as he thought this, he heard his friend suddenly gasp. "What?! H-He's in a crack beneath my foot! CHARIOOOT!" Both he and Preciosa turned around just as Silver Chariot stabbed underfoot. They were too slow, as Vanilla Ice shot through the ground…

And took with him all of his friend's left toes.

He fell back and screamed in pain, just as the monstrous Stand made itself known again. Joaquín paid it no mind, grabbing his friend's cleanly erased foot and focusing his _hamon._ He couldn't heal it, but through his power, he could reverse the flow of blood so that he wouldn't bleed out form it. "I got you, Jean Pierre," he reassured. "Just breathe! Control your breathing!"

Vanilla Ice's cold triumph rang through his Stand as it flew straight at them. "I've taken the mobility from your foot..! It's impossible for you to escape now..!" But both of their Stands, still out, had not kept its eyes off it. They shot out and punched as much as they could at it, but it disappeared before they could touch it. At this point, the Frenchman's pain and anger were far too great to control his Stand. It slashed wildly and destroyed everything it could reach: the walls, the statues, even the floor.

In the midst of the destruction, Joaquín picked him up off his feet and helped him to the stairs. Preciosa joined in on the destruction beside Silver Chariot, kicking up as much dust and debris as he could to hide their presence. Seeing the chaos before had given him an idea, one he remembered pulling off back in New York with Iggy once. He then called to the dog, "Iggy! Antlion's Den! Now!"

The dog's ears shot up in understanding and barked. The Fool's sand whirled around them and pinned them against the staircase, blending them and the grains perfectly against the marble steps. They could just barely see through it. It was a tricky plan. The last time they had tried this, it succeeded. But the one they used it against wasn't as smart Vanilla Ice was. Everything rode on how well they could fool their opponent now.

The dust slowly settled, and the Stand appeared again from nowhere. Its mouth parted for its user to survey the room. He must have thought that they were hiding somewhere in the rubble they had created. "You are all powerless before Vanilla Ice," he spoke aloud to the supposedly empty room. "However, while I can certainly defeat you… I must admit that both your Chariot and Preciosa were able to wound me… It was no fluke… Now… where are you bastards…"

As the man looked around, a low and equally chilling voice echoed from the top of the staircase. It was all-too familiar.

"Why is it so noisy… Vanilla Ice..?"

The man in question turned around, as did Joaquín. Descending from the stairs was a man cast in shadows All that was visible were his golden pants, his wavy blonde hair, and his shirtless, muscular physique. Even without seeing his face, it was clear to them all who this man was.

"L-Lord Dio!," gasped his servant, whose Stand unfurled itself and landed before his descending master. He emerged from the waist up, showing off the sleeveless, dark green leather tunic over periwinkle long sleeves. "Be careful, my lord! Joaquín, Polnareff and that dog are hiding around here somewhere! Please leave it to me. You don't need to be down here, Lord Dio…"

His back was turned to his master, still surveying the wreckage for their hiding spot. Without even making a sound, Dio raised his hand, as if ready to strike down. Joaquín and the others rose out of the sand, also ready to strike as well. To anyone else, this might have been very strange. But he knew what was happening. This Dio was in fact a copy of the vampiric madman, made entirely from The Fool's sand. It was all a part of his and Iggy's plan. All they could do now was pray that it worked.

 _Sorry, Vanilla Ice… As much as I hate attacking people from behind, you fucked up when you killed Mohamed. You deserve this kind of death, you sick_ hijo de puta _!_

The fake Dio brought his hand down, ready to cut him from shoulder to hip like a horse mackerel. _Do it! Get that son of a bitch!_ But, to everyone's shock, he didn't. Mere inches from being sliced apart, Vanilla Ice immediately turned around and chopped the decoy' arm off with his Stand. The ploy had failed, leaving them vulnerable before the murderer.

"H-How the fuck did you figure it out," Joaquín couldn't help but mutter in disbelief.

"Sunlight is filtering into this room from the windows," he answered. And he was right. He had just noticed the light pouring into the room. He was so focused on his plan, on Iggy's quick thinking, that he neglected to remember Dio's one weakness. And the realization made him blanch. Vanilla Ice, meanwhile looked furious, veins popping up on his neck and forehead. "The _real_ Lord Dio wouldn't dare descend into this room..!"

"IGGY!" The decoy tried get one punch in, but it was in vain. Their opponent was swallowed back into his Stand and immediately tore right through it. Iggy's sand scattered everywhere, as did Joaquín and Jean Pierre when the Stand made a hole into the stairs. The poor dog tried to get away, but the all-devouring fiend flew directly in front of him and stopped him in his tracks. Joaquín couldn't stop himself from screaming. "IGGY! GET OUT OF THERE!"

But he couldn't move. Not now.

"The real Lord Dio said he trusted me with this task..!"

Not as the man slowly emerged from his Stand's mouth.

"Therefore, no matter what happened, he would have no reason to come down to the second floor!"

Not when he was at the mercy of his rage. He was going to be erased into this madman's dark pit of a mouth. They were too far apart for them to save him. As for Iggy...

For the first time since Joaquín met him, Iggy was paralyzed with fear.

"HOW DARE YOU, YOU FUCKING MUTT," Vanilla Ice screeched. "HOW DARE YOU MAKE ME DESTROY HIS LIKENESS?!"

But he didn't erase him. Vanilla Ice instead punched Iggy straight in his jaw, sending him yelping and flying into a wall across the room. But why? The others were expecting to see him disappear without a trace, but he was physically struck instead. Not even by the Stand, but by its fuming user, who left it and stormed towards his prone prey. "Of all the things you did to me… How dare you..?! It might have been a fake Lord Dio made of sand, but how _dare_ you make me destroy it?!

"I'LL KICK YOU TO DEATH! YOU FILTHY BEEEAST!"

His mind had finally snapped. He started to mercilessly drive his boot into Iggy's chest, causing the suffering dog to yelp in absolute pain. He screamed and cursed him with each merciless blow. "My dark space would swallow you in an instant! But that can't sate my anger now! It's your fucking fault! Your's! You were the one who angered me! It's all your fucking fault! "Have you realized it yet?! How's it taste?! HAVE YOU FUCKING REALIZED IT YET?! WELL?! WELL?!"

The insane fury that unfolded before him left Joaquín shocked to the core. _This Vanilla Ice_ , he thought, unable to move now, _is indecent… He's not normal... He lost his mind just because he damaged a decoy of Dio… His spirit… is just as dark and empty as his Stand… His heart's torn like a dusky crevice… And he's taking all his madness out on a dog… How can someone like him exist..?_ _!_

"S-Stop it," he pitifully croaked, though his plea never would reach him.

"Lord Dio had told me," he continued, foaming furiously at the mouth. "The power of human resolve isn't something to underestimate! But after all, you're just a shabby fucking pup! You _have_ no resolve! You have no proud soul! YOU HAVE NOTHING AT ALL!"

From his spot, Joaquín could see the breaking, bleeding dog gaze up at his attacker and offer him a condescending smile. Even in the face of death, Iggy still had the proud guts to mock his foe. Unfortunately, he was nearly puking them out when he was kicked continuously again, harder than before. Seeing his friend suffer this indignity finally snapped Joaquín out of his trance. The raging flame he felt before after Mohamed's life was taken reignited. And it burst out of him all at once.

"I SAID STOP, VANILLA ICE," he roared as he stood back up and rushed the monster, Preciosa and Silver Chariot flying by his side.

Said man ceased his torture and leered emptily over his shoulder. "I'll kick you both next," he hissed. Just as they approached, he backflipped into his Stands's mouth, making it eat itself and disappear. Both of the other Stands tried to strike but failed once more.

"DAMNIT," roared Joaquín. "I'M THROUGH PLAYING GAMES! SHOW YOURSELF, YOU FUCKING-"

"Joaquín,"shouted Jean Pierre, who still rested on his stomach nearby. "It's fine! That plan might have failed, but Iggy's Stand's sand gave me a hint as to how we can read his movements. Watch!"

Silver Chariot spun his rapier as swiftly, stirring the sand beneath them. He slashed all about and scattered it until every last grain hung in the air. Sure enough, spherical pockets of empty air began to appear, all making a path in the room. Joaquín couldn't believe it. "Y-You figured it out," he exclaimed. "We can track that fucker easily now!"

" _Oui!_ And look at its movements!" He did. It looked like he was moving about blindly, uncaring where he went or what he absorbed. "Tell me, what did you notice every time he attacked?"

"He… His Stand appeared, and then he appeared in its mouth…" And then it hit him the same moment it appeared before them and opened its mouth.

"ITS TIME YOU FELL," Jean Pierre proclaimed as his Stand's rapier stabbed into its gaping maw and out the back of its head. Caught in between, from what Joaquín could see, was its horrible user pierced through his own mouth. "YES! GOT YOU, _SALAUD_!

 _Of course he did_ , thought Joaquín. _That bastard can't see when he uses his Stand! He has to look outside of his Stand to see what's going on! That's how he's managed to attack us perfectly each time!_

Vanilla Ice gargled up blood, shocked that he had been struck. He was finished. "NOW EAT IT! EAT MY SWORD, YOU WORTHLESS SON OF A BITCH!"

But then his hand grabbed at Chariot's neck. He wasn't supposed to. He had just been stabbed. Why was he still moving? "I-I just skewered your brain stem through your throat," choked Jean Pierre, the Stand's handprint making an impression on his neck. "D-Drop dead already..! It's a fatal wound..! Hurry up and die..! Go to hell, Vanilla Ice!" To drive his point, he stirred the rapier fiercely into him, trying to tear him apart. And yet he _still_ didn't die.

Their enemy's response was grabbing the Stand's free hand. By proxy, Jean Pierre's was dragged forward. Vanilla Ice, blade still in his mouth, growled, "I will not die… I have no time for pain… I will surely kill you..! I will surely consume Iggy and kill the rest of the Joestar group..! Only _then_ will I die..!" He dragged the armored hand into the void of the Stand's mouth. Both his pinkie and fourth finger were erased, as were his now screaming master's fingers.

Silver Chariot immediately pulled his sword out before that could be absorbed too and tried to stab once more into the mouth. His neck was let go, allowing its hand to be stabbed instead. Holding on, he gave the arm that held the rapier an accusing look before striking into his elbow, making the user share in the pain. Joaquín would have none of it. He rushed towards Vanilla Ice, who repeatedly chopped into the arm and used his Preciosa to punch him off.

Once they were separated, The Stand swallowed himself up again. But before it was completely gone, both fists and blade tried to strike him. They couldn't let him get away. He felt his fist connect, but the monster simply vanished again. The sand had already fallen, making him invisible to them again. Before they could return to their users, it struck. His leg was barely cut, but his comrade had a chunk of his left one.

His user couldn't even scream in pain anymore, given all he was going through.

 _This is too much_ , Joaquín thought, his rage and worry battling one another. _Mohamed's_ _dead_ _, Iggy's dying, Jean Pierre's getting crippled… Everyone else is too far away… We're not dealing with any other Stand user… This guy's a fucking lunatic… And his obsessive loyalty's overwhelming us… Nothing we do barely works..!_

 _But… I won't stop until he's dead for good..! None of us will!_ "Jean Pierre," he called out. "Use the sand again!" Silver Chariot complied and scattered the sand again. As before, Vanilla Ice's flight path was visible to them. Just as he was about to be stabbed again, a giant hole appeared in the wall, revealing the city of Cairo right outside. But this surprise was nothing compared to what else was erased. "Y-Your blade! Half your blade is gone!"

"Damnit," cursed the Frenchman. "Any other ideas you have?!"

"No! But we have to-" Another hole in the wall. The Stands and Joaquín avoided it before they were erased. And then another hole. And another. Along the wall and from the floor beneath them, they dodged and weaved past the wild ball of nothingness. He needed to get out of their and regroup with his wounded friend, and fast. With the way their enemy was recklessly moving, they could be swallowed up at any moment.

After avoiding yet another attack, Preciosa quickly grabbed Iggy and flew back with his user to Jean Pierre, the other Stand following suit. Resting the poor dog down, they could see the extent of the damage. There was major blood loss, and his chest looked almost hollow. Given how shallow his breathing was, his ribs had to be almost piercing his lungs. It was a terrible sight. He looked ready to die at any moment.

"Iggy," Joaquín said gingerly, trying his best not to break at the sight of his ailing friend. "Don't use your Stand anymore… Please… Let us take care of everything… We'll kick his ass… And after all this… I'll take you home… I promise…"

More of the wall disappeared this time, but rather than make a hole, Vanilla Ice's dark void scrapped along it like a scooper along fresh ice cream. He wasn't aiming at anything, merely dragging himself recklessly in a circle around the room. But then he moved to the floor, a bit further from the walls. That was when Joaquín noticed that he was moving in a spiral. And it all became clear rather quickly.

 _He's not just moving blindly around_ , he thought as he beheld the sphere moving closer. _He's homing in on us! That spiral's getting smaller with each second! It's like some mosquito coil! It doesn't matter where he'll appear, or if he even does..! He's still gonna hit us at some point!_

He helped his friend to his knees and shouted, "Jean Pierre, we gotta move, now!"

"I-I can't," he hissed. "My leg… my foot..! He had it planned all along..! I can barely move..!"

"Then let me help you!" He grabbed him and Iggy and jumped out of Vanilla Ice's way. But with the way his Stand was moving, they were still in its path. "Damnit! I didn't mean-

"It's fine," grunted Jean Pierre, who fell onto his back when they landed. "But we have to hurry! This guy's carving around like a needle on a record! He'll catch us in five rotations! We have to get out of here!"

"I know that! Come on, we'll take turns!" He gently picked up Iggy and waited for Vanilla Ice to make another rotation. Once he passed, Joaquín jumped past the carving on the floor and set the dog down just as carefully as he got him. But now there was the problem of how his friend was going to cross. His injuries made him nearly immobile. "Jean Pierre, let me get you out of there! There's still time, I can-"

"Don't you dare," he spat suddenly. "If you tried saving me, you'll only end up erased! What could I tell the others if that happened?! To Della?! Damnit, Avdol died because he thought about us and not himself! It's harsh, I get it, but if anyone needs to live, it's you!"

It wasn't harsh. He had a point. Despite his knuckle-headed personality, he almost always had a point. But he was his friend. He couldn't leave him to die. His way of thinking at the moment was going to get him killed. "Jean Pierre, just let me-"

But he interrupted him harshly. " _Non!_ I will help myself! Our friends are too far to help us now! I'll pull myself out!"

The void was down to three rotations. He wanted so badly to pull him out of its path and save him, but the man's pride and concern over their safety was too great. If he tried, he would die. If he didn't, he could never forgive himself. He was damned either way, and it was killing him. Meanwhile, Silver Chariot appeared between the path of the oncoming Stand and his user. It reached out and tried to pull him away. But he couldn't. The Stand wasn't that strong, and Jean Pierre's strength was waning.

Unable to take anymore, Joaquín summoned Preciosa reached out for his friend. But the moment it did, the space between his friend and his Stand disappeared. They had let go just in the nick of time, some of the Frenchman's arm left scratched and bleeding. "Jean Pierre!"

"I-I told you," he said, tired and biting back his pain. "I told you… I'll do it myself..! Even if I have to… Iggy, what're you doing..?!"

Iggy was standing, but just barely. He had gathered most of the scattered sand to form the Fool behind him. But in his ragged, severely injured state, he could barely hold the crumbling Stand or himself together. "I-Iggy, I said no," pleaded Joaquín. The dog fell, but he wobbled back up. "Iggy, sit! No! You'll die if you use your Stand! Please, don't! I have to-"

"Shut up! You fucking… Are you both trying to look cool in save me?! Even if it means dying for me?! I'm the one trying to save _you_! You're the ones that have to survive and tell _Monsieur_ Joestar and the others! Especially you, Joaquín! You have to be the one to defeat him! Avdol might have died to save me, but you're not going to do the same! If you all die, then everything we've gone through will be for nothing!"

He couldn't believe it. Jean Pierre wasn't making any more attempts to escape. He had taken too much damage and couldn't move. But he kept refusing help. He didn't want hem to stick their necks out for him anymore and die trying. For him, he had fought all he could, and he would rather die knowing that. For him, it was all over.

There was one rotation left. It was too late to save him now.

" _La vie est une telle garce_ ," he muttered in defeat, just as the all-consuming sphere barreled towards him. "Oh well… This guys obsession… won over me…"

"Jean Pierre…"

The Frenchman, succumbing to his impending fate, gave them one last salute with his good hand and smirked. " _Au revoir… mes amis…_ "

"JEAN PIEEERE!"

It was over for him. The ball had reached its final destination. But Joaquín couldn't bare to look. He couldn't handle seeing another friend be erased. When he felt the inevitable was over, he looked back to where his friend was. Sure enough, the spot where he was before was eaten away. There was no sign of him at all. All that was left was his only earring laying dead on the ground. The sight made him want to scream again. But it was stuck in his throat.

Quite suddenly, he reappeared. Vanilla Ice emerged from the dark void, outside his own Stand and absolutely covered in blood. His eyes rested hollowly on his prey as he began his slow, purposeful approach towards them. "Polnareff," he panted. "This blood was not his doing… Nor was it yours… It was Avdol's…" His face twisted in fury, teeth bared as he continued to pin the blame on the man he had killed earlier.

"At that time, I was going to erase him and the rest of you, all at once..! But that Avdol… he knocked you out of the way..! At that moment, it should have been a natural reflex for someone in his predicament to protect himself..! That is what lead to his accomplishment… But… while I may still be wounded, it will take some time before I die… Now… I will kill the rest of you..! I bring you down without question..!"

It was all up to him now. If Joaquín didn't end him now, the others would be finished. He needed to make sure there was nothing left of the monster, to make sure he felt the pain of those whose lives he so callously stole. But as Joaquín and his Stand stood up to take him on, something caught his attention. The small sound of something dripping onto the floor. Turning to it, he saw blood leaking from above, which led up to a still living Jean Pierre stuck on the ceiling.

And keeping him up there was a wall of sand, which belonged to-

"Iggy," Jean Pierre whispered in heartbroken disbelief, tears in his eyes. Turning back to Iggy, he could see his little friend wheezing beneath a pile of his own sand, unable to move and clearly at his own limit. "You were told not to use your Stand… But you just had to look cool, didn't you..? We told you not to…"

"Iggy, why," Joaquín murmured, his heart breaking as well. Even he was in tears. "No…"

"Polnareff," Vanilla Ice growled in shock. "How… How did you survive?! How could that mutt have saved you?!"

Something he had said earlier to the dog came back to him. And the answer to his demands were clear. "I'll tell you why…" His watery gaze returned to he madman, burning with hatred. "You said earlier that a dog like him had no resolve… That he didn't have a proud soul… But what you don't get is that Stands are a manifestation of the soul..! And Iggy's… is the proudest of them all..! It moved on its own..! It couldn't help itself..! A monster like you will _never_ understand that..!"

There came a weak sound from the dying dog, a humored bark. Looking back at him, Joaquín saw the poor thing giving him a wavering smile. He looked happy in this moment, happy to know that there was one person who finally understood him. And it was one of the first few people to ever treat him with any dignity and respect. He could see the pride and happiness in those mischievous blue eyes of his. With the last of his energy spent, Iggy spat up blood once more and went limp.

And from above, the sand finally gave way. The Fool lost its form. It was nothing but an empty husk now. When the grains fell upon him, he could sense it. It was cold annihilation, the extinguishment of its life. There was no denying this feeling. Another one of his friends was gone. And once again, they were the ones who were left surviving.

The guilt and pain in his heart had reached its peak.

Joaquín finally screamed.

"IGYYY!"

His pain, loss, and the absolute hatred for Vanilla Ice tore out from his throat. As did Jean Pierre's. They rushed the murdered with their Stands, his own summoned to try and swallow them up. But they beat him to the mark, Preciosa bringing him into a full-nelson and Silver Chariot choking and piercing him straight through the head. "You're too slow, you filthy bastard," hissed Joaquín through his Stand.

"And you were right," lamented Jean Pierre. "My luck with friends is sad… I was supposed to save Iggy, but he saved me instead… Break his neck, Joaquín…" Preciosa grabbed his prey's head and twisted it to face his fiery gaze. The surprised look in his eyes was brief, just as what life remained in them faded together with his Stand. Silver Chariot and his master fell, and their foe was tossed away like trash. Their battle was over.

The room was quiet now. The dust and sand had settled. And all that lingered in the air now was pain. Not from the injuries they sustained, but from their hearts shattering. They had lost two of their own, all at the hands of some fanatical maniac. It was expected, but not at the speed or the manner it was delivered. They weren't prepared for it. The two were their friends. And rather than heed the warnings not to, they gave their lives up for them.

Joaquín approached the still form of his little friend and dropped to his knees. He then picked him up gingerly and cradled him as if he were just a puppy. The tears in his eyes flowed freely, his words coming out choked as he spoke to him. "Iggy… I'm so sorry… I'm so sorry… You... You shouldn't have been brought into this mess… You should have been in New York… You didn't deserve this… But… don't worry… I'll… I'll take you home where you can rest… You've…

"You've been a good boy, Iggy…"

"Damnit," Jean Pierre cursed, trying his best not to break down. "Why..? I just now realized how much I liked him… I've always been like this… I never understand until they're gone… I just thought he was just some shitty, bitter dog, but the way he defied and never got attached to anyone… I liked that… And I get it now… why he never showed any kindness… It was that proud personality of his…"

"Even in his last moments," Joaquín whispered, "he was still proud. He's always been like that… But… I think… I think he respected you too, Jean Pierre…" He then gave the dog a kiss on his forehead and placed him back on the sand. He then took a deep breath and focused his _hamon_ , letting some flow into Iggy. "I don't know if this will work.. I doubt it, but… I want his body preserved… I don't know how long it'll be, but I want him okay when we come back for him…"

The moment he finished, he felt something stirring behind him. It wasn't his friend, neither was it Silver Chariot or Preciosa. It was cold and unfeeling, a shadow of death looming over them.

 _I see_ , he thought. _This explains everything, Vanilla Ice._

The monstrous Stand roared behind them, but it didn't have a moment to strike before Preciosa's fists slammed into it. From behind, he could see through his Stand's eyes the impact he was making on the reanimated fiend he was pummeling. With one punch straight to the face, he slammed him against a wall, which he bounded off as if nothing happened. His eyes looked as dead as always, but now it was obvious why.

"So that's how," muttered Jean Pierre, who realized the same thing.

"Yeah… Stay down, buddy… He's mine, now…" He rose and met his opponent's murderous gaze. "I was wondering how you survived getting stabbed twice like that… That bastard did it to you, didn't he..? He gave you his blood… You probably didn't even realize your body had changed until now…" Preciosa's arm swelled with oil, blazing with _hamon_ , and flung it onto Vanilla Ice's arm. He immediately panicked as it began to burn and crumble from its heat.

"W-What is this," he shouted. "Y-You..! What have you done to me..?!"

"I didn't do shit… Blame Dio… He did this to you. But you should be happy... You're just like him now… A soulless, filthy vampire…" As he tried to lunge at him, he had another glob of oil strike his leg. It crumbled too, leaving Vanilla Ice roaring in pain and wobbling on one foot. " But bet Dio didn't tell you that… He probably thought it was unimportant, that you'd finish us off easily... What did it matter if you didn't know about your new weakness..?"

Vanilla Ice hissed as his former prey approached. There was defiance in his eyes, as well as disbelief hiding in plain sight. "Lord Dio… is vulnerable only to the sun… How is it that you..."

"Can harness it..? This isn't any Stand ability… It's a technique passed on for thousands of years…" He took another deep breath and began to glow with sparks. "This is _hamon_ , the ripple of the sun… And it all starts… with a trembling heart…" Joaquín punched him across the face, letting him feel the heat of his power break his cheek.

"And scorching heat.." He kicked him straight in the stomach now, making him stagger and clutch his crumbling chest. "I'll cut through you… with my blood's beat!"

Having had enough, he roared "DAMN YOU, TREJO!" and made one final, desperate lunge for his prey.

His attack would never never came.

Joaquín had caught him in a powerful, rage-filled maelstrom of _hamon_ -infused fists. The room grew bright with his intense light, and his scream echoed all around. "SUNLIGHT YELLOW OVERDRIIIVE!" He made sure the vampire suffered for his crimes, letting him feel every ounce of pain burning in his very soul. When there was barely anything left of him, he grabbed Vanilla Ice by the face and threw his crumbling remains straight out of one of the holes he made leading outside.

The evening sun finished and disintegrated him to dust.

 _It's over… But…_ He looked down at his glowing hands. _I don't… I don't feel any satisfaction… I avenged them, but… It's not like when I avenged_ Abuelita _and Dad… I don't feel happy… I don't… It doesn't even feel like I won… Their deaths… Their deaths could have been avoided… It's my fault they died… If they never got involved, they might have lived… Why..? Why did they do it for us..?_

Just as his own guilt overtook his mind, something mysterious happened. The two men witnessed what look like more dust flying towards the city outside the hole. It swirled gently in place, growing larger until it took a cloudy form of a man with a bizarre shape on his shoulder. The details filled out until at last, floating with their backs to them were two familiar faces looking down from the sky. They couldn't believe what they were seeing.

"Mohamed," Joaquín whispered as tears filled his eyes again. "And… Iggy… I…" But he couldn't say anything else. The rest of his words faded before they left him. He wanted to apologize, but he just couldn't. He didn't know if they would even hear him. It didn't matter. Somehow, they knew what it was. Their stoic, yet urging eyes pierced his heart. And he knew that they forgave him.

The spirits of his fallen friends gave one last nod and began to drift away. Before he could even call back out to them, they were gone. They left no sign that they were even there to begin with. Just what had happened? Was what he saw real? Did he dream it? He didn't question it further, for his awestruck trance broke when he heard Jean Pierre fall behind him. "H-Hey! Are you okay?"

He groaned in response and was helped to his knees. "I-I'm fine," he muttered. "Was that… an illusion..? Or…"

It felt too real to have been some hallucination, but too impossible not to be. He just didn't know. But seeing them both that way, and the nod they gave him... It was a sign. A sign that Mohamed and Iggy, at peace with being avenged, wanted them to continue fighting before they left. And he promised them, as he looked out into the sun-soaked Cairo, that he would do just that. Him, Jean Pierre, and the others.

"We gotta climb those stairs," said Joaquín as he carefully helped his friend to his feet. "We don't have time for sorrow… We can save it… We can…"

But he couldn't wait. Everything had finally caught up to him and crashed hard. And Joaquín couldn't stop himself from breaking down and hugging his friend, his tears and cries of anguish escaping him. The Frenchman returned the embrace and let him mourn. For he too felt his pain and expressed it through his silent tears. It was the price they paid. The price for allowing them to be involved in this bloody feud.

One which Joaquín Trejo vowed to end once and for all.

~+JO*JO+~

"... Vanilla Ice… has been annihilated…"

"What..? How did you know that..? I never used my Stand on him… I never formed a bridge, I wouldn't have been able to sense him…"

"No… but I did… I would not call it a blood connection, but, even outside his loyalty, my connection to him as master and servant has let me sense his defeat… He has more than likely been destroyed by the sun… Or… Joaquín… He has that power.. the same accursed power _he_ had…

"So… You mean to say that…"

"Yes… With the exception of Nimrod… The last of my subordinates… is dead… Damn it… Damn it all… I've lost everyone… My mansion has been exposed… I, Dio, am all alone now… And yet… despite the desperation of this situation, I am certain that, because of what I can anticipate, I can face it with my resolve… If this were a future I had seen and understood… then perhaps I could have met this without hesitation… I suppose _this_ is what heaven is meant to be…

"I must see heaven… reach it… and overcome all that stand in my way… I will claim victory…"

"... Given Vanilla Ice's ability, he should have at least finished off one more of their own. Either Polnareff or the dog, Iggy. If not, then at least caused grievous harm…

"And even if there were more survivors, regardless of his intellect, Iggy is but a dog. Meaning Joaquín and Polnareff… are the lone survivors…

"... Call this useless, Lennox, but… I think I'll challenge them… Especially Polnareff… I may not have another chance at him again…"

"Do you believe gravity may be on your side?"

"You might surely say such a gravity exists between him and I… Even if I cannot form an alliance with the Joestars, with my subordinates gone, I would be thankful to have Polnareff return to me… Kakyouin is with the others… Even if negotiating with _him_ is impossible…

"There wil still be Jean Pierre Polnareff.

"Precisely… Yet, had I not implanted a flesh bud on him, he would bear no direct grudge against me… He has already avenged his sister… And unlike Noriaki Kakyouin, he has never personally met Holly Kuujou… So depending on how I negotiate, it might be possible to win him over… I must do this before he catches up with the Joestars again…

"Will you succeed..?"

"... I hope so… I shall return…"

~+JO*JO+~

They were sitting upon the first set of steps, right by the landing leading halfway to the next floor. Joaquín had taken a moment to ease the pain in Jean Pierre's wounds and change his blood flow. He had no bandages, but he did cover them with some fabric he tore from a nearby curtain. "This is some nice material," commented Jean Pierre.

"The kind only rich snobs would get," said Joaquín, finishing up covering his missing fingers. "And given who's living here, it'd only be natural. That bastard was able to pay a hefty price for all his minions."

As he started to tie up his foot, he couldn't help but think back to the past events. At some point, he would have to deliver the terrible news to his friends and family. He wish he didn't have to. It weighed heavily on his heart. But he had no other choice. This wasn't like India. It was worse. They had to know the truth, and hard as it would be, he had to tell them.

Once he finished, he helped Jean Pierre to his feet. "Alright… Can you stand a bit better?"

He shrugged and added some weight to his mended foot, then jumped lightly on it. "Looks like it.… I can hop around and move better than before… There's only a bit of pain, but there's no time to worry about that now."

"Of course not… Pain is second only to what's up ahead… Come on… Let's get…"

And then it came. A rush of pure, chilling evil flooding from up above, far greater than anything he had ever felt. It was the same evil presence he had felt in the now destroyed room earlier. But that was early, when the man who radiated this nauseating aura was resting on the next floor during Vanilla Ice's attack. Right now, he was standing upon the next landing, gazing down at them within the darkness that awaited them.

He was a handsome man with a gorgeous, muscular body and beautiful, wavy blonde hair. His ears were pierced with rings, the left one sporting three small moles near its lobe. He wore a golden jacket and matching pants, both opening up to a black unitard. A green band adorned with a heart-shaped crest held up his hair, which matched his knee pads and the buckle to some unused suspenders. Golden bands covered their wrists, which matched the ones over his clogs.

They knew this man. One had met him. The other dreamt of him. It was the very person they had spent fifty days searching for.

He was smirking, his amber eyes flashing with murderous excitement. "It's been a while, Polnareff," he spoke silkily, almost like a long-lost friend. "And, Joaquín… We meet at last."

"Indeed," Joaquín agreed, letting his hatred burn through his tone. "I've been waiting years for this."

"So you've finally shown yourself," said Jean Pierre with determined eagerness.

Indeed. The time had come to finally confront him:

The man known as Dio.

~IGGY (1983-1989): RIP~

~VANILLA ICE (1957-1989): RIP~

* * *

Finally, he has shown himself. You can insert Holy Diver into this if you'd like. I've got no other words other than I enjoyed this fight so much. Given all the action that went down, I managed to write it pretty quickly. It was intense. Oh, and before I forget. Joaquin's use of Overdrive rather than Overload. Given the emotions he was undergoing, the seriousness of the battle and out of honoring the men who used the technique, he had forgone using his version and channeled his ancestor's will to defeat Vanilla Ice. A fitting way to end the vampire.

I've got nothing more to say except to get ready for the next chapter.


	39. Hungry For Heaven

Hey everyone! I hope you all had a good holiday! I did, and I can't be happier. I've managed to finish this right on time before the year ended. Helps that I planned this chapter months ago. I hope you all enjoy this. And have a Happy New Year!

* * *

Ch. 39  
Hungry For Heaven

JANUARY 16TH, 1989  
15:58  
CAIRO, EGYPT

It all began a century ago, when Dio was adopted into the Joestar family. He and Jonathan were raised as brothers. Joaquín didn't know the details of their shared childhood, but from what he understood, they ended up locked in endless battle. It all came to a head when the two met their end out in the Atlantic, where the two would rest beneath the waves forever.

That was supposed to be the end of it, but the grudge he began had lasting effects, cursing the Joestars through time. George Joestar II was killed by one of his undead followers. Joseph suffered against the beings who first created vampires. And now, after having been revived from his watery grave over four years ago, Holly fell ill due to his Stand's influence. Her sons, father and the others spent fifty days hunting Dio down to end the curse he laid upon them all.

All the pain they endured, the trials they faces, everything… It all came to head the moment they stepped into the mansion. And now, Joaquín stood face-to-face with Dio within the stairwell. In this moment, he felt the injustice he had inflicted upon his entire family. He felt the grief he brought to the world just by being alive. All of it made him burn with anger for him. He was ready to pay him back for _everything_ he did.

Dio, smiling from his perch, applauded them. "Congratulations to you both on a job well done," he said sincerely. "Not only have you traveled all across the Far East to my manor in… almost one piece, but you have also managed to avenge the lives of your fallen family members... I must offer you, also, my deepest condolences… While it is true that their killers were not under my servitude at the time of their deaths, as you are both aware, I still feel responsible for them…"

"Cut the bullshit," Joaquín spat, letting his hatred be known in his voice. "You don't feel bad at all for their deaths. Or maybe you do, only because you didn't have a chance to kill them yourselves."

"Believe me… Had I known of their existence, I would not have struck them down… Even I, Dio, know better than to provoke a sleeping lion… I have done it once before, and have since regretted my actions…"

He scoffed at the notion. "You actually felt regret..?

"As a mortal, yes..."

"Well, let me tell you something you'll soon come to regret... Walking this Earth again and endangering both humanity and my family..!" He then pointed directly at him, his eyes blazing straight into Dio. "You're no longer welcome in this world, Dio! As God as my witness, I'll cast you to the depths of Hell, never to be revived again!"

In response, the vampire let out a mirthless chuckle. "You speak as if I had elaborated a plan to revive myself from the Atlantic... Let me ask you something, Joaquín... How do you think I resurfaced into this new world, a century after my defeat..? Had I planned my defeat aboard that ship..? Perhaps tasked a long-forgotten, undead servant to spread the news in hopes to gain followers to revive me..? No. None of these... My defeat was completely unplanned…

"Your ancestor simply followed his instincts to make sure I would forever rest at the bottom of the ocean with him... How the rumor of my casket spread through the surface, I do not know... What I _do_ know is that stories and legends can end up skewed with the passage of time... Perhaps the tale of a pitiful monster slumbering in the Atlantic was later twisted into the prospect of forgotten treasure waiting for someone to find it...

"The men who found it were no followers of mine... They knew not of Dio, nor of the events that transpired that led to his 'demise'... Instead, they dredged my coffin from the sea out of greed… They were hungry for what they believed rested inside, for they believed, as any other human, that it could bring them power… For it is power that humanity sees as this worlds one true justice..."

His words filled them with disgust. They knew not all of humanity was good, but to call their greed justice was simply wrong. Who was he to know justice, this man who had done nothing by spread misery and death for years?

"Justice," asked Jean Pierre fiercely. "Justice?! Don't say that word like you know what it means, bastard! You might think we're nothing but greedy rats, but you're wrong! Your way of thinking is judgmental and misinformed! You want to know what justice is? Humanity, guided under similar beliefs, uniting as one to move forward and achieve a common goal. It's my friends and I together, to hunt you down and end your reign of fear once and for all! _That_ is justice!"

"You are correct," he calmly agreed. "But ask again, what goals are these..? What drives them..? What truly brings humanity together..? Greed. Greed and power. Take a look throughout history… Not only through recent history, but in the past... Before even I, Dio, was born... What drove Alexander the Great to conquer nations, to the unjust death of Jesus of Nazareth, to the development and advancement of the first societies?

"Greed; the desire for more than they currently had... And faith; the teachings of twisted bias passed down by men unto their successors... That is what leads the blindness that is humanity to advance in this modern world, and continue advancing… The reason they engage in mindless war and conquer one another's countries... The reason that, no matter you think you may be achieving in my defeat, they cannot be saved…"

"... You're right too," Joaquín agreed as well. He knew that his words, twisted as they were, held some truth in them. "Not all of humanity is good, I won't lie about that. But within that rough, there are diamonds that shine bright and pure. Those people don't need power, greed or faith to lead them. Rather, they believe it's through the united strength of their respect and compassion for everything, and for their own innate power and determination, that they can truly be led into the future.

"That's why I fight. Not just for my family, but also for them. So that even through their own corruption, they can have a ray of hope in the future. One that you will have no part of, Dio!"

The man's smile didn't falter throughout the argument on ideals. In fact, he looked almost interested in him, something he did not feel comfortable with in the slightest. "You certainly are an interesting individual… Noble, proud, and compassionate... Despite their faults, you still fight for the sake of humanity... I can't help but feel admiration for you… And if he were still alive, then certainly Jonathan too would have shared my sentiments…"

Hearing his ancestor's name coming from the man who stole his body made his blood boil hotter than anything else he had said so far. "… How dare you say his name… After all you've done to him… You've even disgraced him by stealing his body! Of all the people who don't have the right to utter his name, you are the most undeserving of them all!"

"I speak only the truth… He would have been proud to see you, his descendant, here to bring honor back to the Joestar name…"

Even Jean Pierre found his praise fake and meaningless. And he vocalized it with a scoff. "He couldn't ask for a better reward than that." He grabbed the nearby drapes and wiped his bloody mouth on it. For a moment, Dio's smile faltered. "So why don't you submit to your fate, Dio, at the hands of those who wish to end your life the most?!"

He chuckled and smiled wider. "Fine… I'll reward you, alright. But rather than my life, I want to offer you a second chance. An opportunity to rejoin my ranks, Polnareff… Joaquín… I extend this unto you as well…. All you both would have to do is descend from where you stand, and I will know that you pledge your allegiance to me. However, should you chose to refuse my offer, if you wish to foolishly throw your lives away, then… by all means… ascend to your doom."

Joaquín didn't speak, but his answer was clear in his eyes. _You must be out of your mind_ , he thought silently. _My whole lineage has suffered because of you. I'd rather take my chances with death. As would anyone else you offer this to._ As for his friend, who had stood quiet for a moment, he finally spoke up. His words came out quiet and measured, as if he had prepared a powerful speech.

"You know, Dio," he began. "When we first met, I was vulnerable… I had lost my sister… I had lost my home to corruption... I was desperately searching for answers I knew were impossible to find… You knew this… And that was how you manipulated me… You offered me help, salvation from the pain dwelling within the depths of my heart… You instilled within me an unbreakable fear of your incredible evil… And I had foolishly succumbed to you…

It was in that moment when my life had hit its lowest point… I became a dog with his tail tucked between his legs... There was nothing worth living for in that period besides the inhuman desire to be used by you... It was a fate worse than death! I wanted to die… Or rather, I already did… And it wasn't until I met _Monsieur_ Joestar and his group that I was reborn…" He took a moment to blow his nose on the curtain, further insulting Dio.

"It's thanks to them that I am no longer gripped by fear, but by the will to fight at their side… It has taken these past forty-five days, the endless fights, and the loss of my friends, to dispel all the fear in my heart…"

"Jean Pierre," Joaquín whispered, feeling pride in his friend. He really had come a long way. When he met him, he came a cross as a man who, while proud, often thought more between his legs. His mind was only ever set on revenge, and nothing else. But he had proven that he could grow beyond all that and become the very man who stood before him, one he was proud to fight alongside.

"And now that I no longer fear you… I swear to you, Dio, that we will end you once and for all!"

A deafening silence followed him, his chilling presence and murderous lust filling the stairwell. Despite the insane pressure he felt from the vampire, Joaquín wasn't scared at all. That same fear he instilled on everyone else that crossed him would never grip his heart. Dio had no power over him or Jean Pierre in this moment, and he knew it.

Yet it didn't bother him at all. Dio kept his smile and licked his lips, as if anticipating his next bloody meal. "If this is your final say on the matter," he whispered, carrying down to them like a freezing gust of wind, "then… face your doom.

They didn't need an invitation. The two took a step up onto the landing, but soon found themselves three steps down the stairs. Their foe looked amused"Oh? Can this be?" Dio teased and chuckled. "It seems that you _both_ have descended... Perhaps this means you wish to join me..?"

Looking at the stairs, Joaquín found that he was right. _What the..? That's… But we climbed! I know we did! That's impossible!_ They tried climbing again, but as soon as they stepped onto the landing, they were back down. "But… No," muttered the dumbfounded Frenchman. "It can't be! The stairs… we… I was certain-

"Why, Polnareff," Dio continued to taunt, "you're trembling… Is this not a sign of your fear..?"

"Of course not!" Jean Pierre may have sounded confident, but the nervous beads of sweat on his forehead betrayed him.

"Perhaps in your mind, you thought you should climb... But your heart, still filled with a small, doubtful shred of fear, made your body unconsciously move away from me…"

"Shut up," shouted Joaquín. "Neither of us are afraid of you, Dio!" They tried once more to climb the stair, and yet they still failed to reach him. It just didn't make sense. This wasn't any illusion anymore, now were they moving on their own. _This has to be... This has to be Dio's Stand at work… The World… It's got to! But how the hell did he do it?!_

As he thought this, he noticed Dio had procured a chair from out of nowhere, taking a seat and clutching his hands pensively. "Gentlemen… May I take a moment to ask you something..? Have you ever sat down and contemplated what humans live for..? Lady Enya and I discussed this when she was alive... When I asked her this, do you know what she had told me..? She said, 'Humanity lives in order to overcome their shortcomings, their anxiety and fear, and achieve peace of mind.'

"In other words, reassurance... It sounded so simple coming from her… And yet, I knew she was right… Everything humans do in their lives is simply to reach this very goal… Attaining fame and fortune, lording over others, bonds through holy matrimony and friendship, servitude, battling for love and peace… All of this… a means to one end… I believe this to be man's ultimate goal, achieving peace of mind…

"With that said, why do you both so foolishly throw your lives away..? Do you feel insecurity at the prospect of serving me..? By pledging fealty to me, you both can achieve this easier than anyone else… Surely even you, Joaquín, feel some worry in your spirit about challenging me, knowing fully well that you would only be resigning yourself to your death…"

He was wrong. He felt no such worry or fear. He felt no insecurity. Putting his life on the line was dangerous, but he didn't care. He would rather die than to ever serve this menace.

"You are both excellent Stand users," he continued. "I know this… It would be a shame to kill you both… Please consider this offer… Join me… Abandon your group… Stand at my side… and I shall grant you both a peace of mind that is… eternal… Under my servitude, your wildest fantasies can come true. I can grant you all the riches this world has to offer. Share with you the secrets of the cosmos… I can even revive those who you have lost… Your family… Your friends… All of them…

"Swear to me… Swear to your god… Swear to Dio…"

Joaquín had only one answer to his request: "Never."

"I beg your pardon," he asked, but he heard him alright.

"I SAID NEVER! I am a Trejo _and_ a Joestar! I would never submit to a madman whose ideals and words are as twisted and empty as his soul! You're not a god, but a devil who's walked on this earth for far too long! Mankind ill needs a monster such as you!"

"You've talked for too long, Dio," growled Jean Pierre, whose nerves steeled again. "We settle this here and now! So bring out your Stand! You may have killed me once, but until we see your Stand, you will never have a second chance at killing me again!" Their Stands burst out from within them, ready to strike down the vampire.

With his offer denied, Dio made a grunt of dissatisfaction. "Such foolish drivel," he muttered. "I suppose it can't be helped… Very well… If you wish to believe that, then so be it." He slowly rose from his seat. Rising with him was a muscular spirit, purely gold with a triangular, Egyptian-like crown over its menacing eyes. Over his chest were pale, straps like a diver's vest. On the back his matching gauntlets were what looked like ancient clocks.

He had finally shown his Stand.

"So this is The World," exclaimed Jean Pierre.

"Bring it on, Dio," shouted Joaquín, as they finally threw their Stands at their foe.

The vampire laughed and cried out,"Muda, muda, muda, muda, muda, muda, muda, muda, MUDA!"

Before they reached him, the wall behind them crumbled. The two turned to see sunlight filtering in and four figures standing before it, pointing directly at them like heroes. Despite the tense situation, Joaquín couldn't have been happier to see these people again.

"Guys! Della! You're alive!"

Joseph tipped back his fedora and smirked. "Nothing to worry about, boys," he said, before his smile melted upon seeing who they were facing. Turning back, they saw Dio slip back into the shadows, unable to stand the sunlight.

"W-Was that him," asked Della, eyes widen in shock. "Was it…"

"Yes," muttered Joseph. "Just now… that was Dio..! Come on!"

But as they all tried giving chase up the stairs, Joaquín stopped them and exclaimed, "Guys, wait! Just… wait a second… Before we go after him, we have to tell you what just happened. Dio brought it out. The World."

"He _what_?!"

"It's… hard to explain what happened, though… It's beyond anything we could understand, but I'll try to explain it the best I could… Jean Pierre and I… we tried climbing up the stairs… But each time we hit the landing, we found ourselves back down a few steps…" They all looked rather confused. "I know it doesn't make sense. Hell, I'm still confused. All I know is that it's not hypnosis or some insane speed… What we experienced was something worse…"

But what was it? It was a question that had been on everyone's mind from the very moment they began their journey. And after experiencing it, they were no closer to a concrete answer. What exactly was The World capable of? What did he just put him and Jean Pierre through? Nothing that would make sense sounded right. No illusions or anything like that. But it was something powerful. Something that made Dio's minions tremble in fear at the mere mention of it…

Joutarou, quiet as ever, looked around the area finally asked he question his older brother had been dreading. " _Hey,_ niisan _… Where's Avdol and Iggy..?_ "

They turned to the two. He could tell in their eyes that they weren't prepared for the answer he had for them. They weren't prepared for the pain it would bring them. Especially Della, who loved Iggy just as much as he did. But they had to know.

"They couldn't make it," Joaquín said solemnly. "They gave their lives for us."

Everyone stood in silence. Della's eyes filled up with tears. Noriaki bowed his head in Joutarou couldn't even look at them right now. But the one who looked the most hurt was Joseph, who was closest to the fortuneteller and the only other person Iggy was close with. "I see," he whispered, clearly holding his own tears back.

" _Joestar-san_ ," Noriaki spoke up, sounding just as sad as the others. " _The sun is setting. If we don't hurry…_ "

Della swallowed and wiped her eyes. "H-he's right. We can mourn later. Dio's weak to the sunlight. We have to get him now." She went back to the hole in the wall and took with her a burlap sack, tossing it into the shade. Something inside yelped. "Come on out, Nimrod. We're short on time and need answers." A tiny man nervously peeked out, pale as death with straggly black hair, a tiger-print cap and a blue jumpsuit. "Can you tell us what's on the next floor?"

He gulped and answered pitifully, "T-The tower… There's just one room at the top, a-and Lord Dio sleeps there during the day…"

"Any other staircase leading to it?"

"N-No, miss… T-this is the only one…"

"Alright. Now lead the way."

Whoever this Nimrod was clambered out, avoiding the light and leading them up the stairs. Before them was another stairwell with spiral steps ascending once more. As they climbed, Joaquín couldn't help but ask, "Nimrod? Kind of a silly insult, isn't it?"

"It's not an insult," Della said. "It's his name."

"Nimrod's his name?"

"It's from the Bible," added Joseph quietly.

Joaquín was flabbergasted. "Nimrod's a Biblical name?!"

They said nothing else as the impish man finally brought them to a lone chamber. It was silent and dark, its only window boarded up. Paintings and an ornamental fireplace lined the walls. In the center of the room, lit by two weak candles, was a massive coffin. There was only one man who could be in there. Not taking any chances, Joutaoru used Star Platinum to break the window open, sunlight blasting in. Nimrod shrieked and scrambled away from it.

"Be careful, everyone," Joseph warned. "He might not necessarily be in that coffin…

Jean Pierre looked around and muttered, "Maybe… Maybe he's lurking around somewhere…"

"We're not taking any chances at all," said Joaquín, approaching the coffin with the others. It looked as ancient as the vampire who slept within, emblazoned with a golden D. "This time… This time there's no escape. Whatever he has in store for us, we can all take him on."

"I can't believe we came this far," said Della quietly. She didn't look scared being this close to Dio. "We've all gone through so much to get here… And now… we can all end it…

"This is the first time we'll get to see him," said Joseph. "Me… I've known this man since I was born… Same with you boys." He looked up at his grandchildren, who seemed to understand him completely. "Not as an old friend… But as an opponent we would have to defeat from birth…. We, with the Joestar blood, knew we would meet this man one day."

The eldest of the two nodded. "Whenever I had dreamt of him, I always felt that this man and I had some connection. That somehow, he had something to do with my own destiny. In a way, I was right… I was destined to confront him. All of us were… And…" He looked around at them all and smiled. "I'm glad that… I can face this with everyone… My friends, my brother, my grandfather… and my love…"

"Della was right. These past fifty days, everything we've gone through, is coming to an end. And we can do it without regrets. Without fear. But with our own courage and desire for justice…" He smiled at them all, who smiled back. Even his brother cracked a grin. "Together."

"Together," repeated Joseph. "Very well. Joutarou, take the left. Polnareff, the right. Kakyouin and I will take the front. Joaquín, Della, from behind. We'll attack if he comes out." As everyone got into position, he turned to the imp and barked. Nimrod! You're going to open the lid."

The whimpering Nimrod slowly approached his master's coffin, grovelling for his life. "L-Lord Dio..! Forgive me… But I didn't betray you… I only brought them here because I believe in your power..! I'm as certain as piss being blown by a strong wind against someone's pants..! Please understand..! You have nothing worried about being cornered by these rats..! I brought them so that you may defeat them all..!"

"Just hurry up and open it," shouted an impatient Joseph."

"Lord Dio," Nimrod giggled. "Kill these rats..! Lord Dio..!" He giddily and slowly pulled the lid off. At any moment, if he was in there, their foe would end up springing out of there. They were all ready for it. But when the lid was off just enough for them to see inside, the vampire did not come out. In fact, he wasn't even there. Another vampire rested within, cut up into little pieces and just as shocked as the others.

"Huh..? Me..?"

It was Nimrod.

"I-I'm in here," he gargled, his head severed from his jaw. "But why me..? I was just opening the lid.

"What the hell," shouted Joseph, everyone backing away from the coffin now. "Why is _he_ in there?!"

"We didn't look away from the coffin," said Della shakily. "So how..?"

"I-It's not super speed," muttered Jean Pierre, turning to Joaquín worriedly. "I's not hypnosis either! It's the same thing that happened to us!"

" _The World_ ," asked Noriaki.

"Bastard," growled Joutarou. "Things are getting interesting now…"

It had happened again. Dio had unleashed the power of his Stand, The World. And this time, the others had witnessed it. Not even they could explain what had happened. But one thing was for sure. "It didn't look like he got in himself. Nimrod was put in. He just disappeared and was in there when he opened it… And nobody saw it happen, right..?"

"N-No," answered Jean Pierre. "We all kept a close eye on him and then…

"It's like Polnareff said," Noriaki added. "This isn't some super speed trick…"

"Jojo," whispered Della. "What're we gonna do..?"

But he shook his head, uncertain now more than ever. "I.. I don't know," he answered. "This is insane… Just what is it..? It looked like a short-range Stand, but… It's power… I just don't know… We just saw him her come up here... How could he have…" He stopped and then looked all around, a horrible thought coming to mind. _Wait a minute… Dio wasn't in there… And there's really nowhere in this room he could hide… So where is he..?_

"It's wrong," said Joutarou, thinking the same as his brother.. "Something's wrong." Just as he said this, they all felt it. A wave of cold bloodlust growing within the room. And it was heading straight for them.

"RUN FOR IT," yelled Joseph, and they all ran straight to the window. But Jean Pierre stood still, ready to face the oncoming threat. "WHAT'RE YOU DOING, POLNAREFF?!" He then ensnared him in Hermit Purple's vines and dragged him, everyone bursting right out of the tower window. They all pulled out their Stands and grabbed onto the side of the mansion wall, climbing back up onto a landing right beneath where they escaped.

As everyone caught their breath, Joseph retracted his Stand and spoke. "I felt it… That tremendous bloodthirsty aura… It's like someone thrust a an icicle up my ass… Were we still there now… He would have killed us one by one…"

" _This is the first time I've seen a Stand type like that_ ," said Noriaki, adjusting his shades. " _I didn't see it, but it felt far more terrible than any other Stand we've met before! It's like recognizing am oncoming bulldozer just by the sound of its engine alone!_ "

Why did they run? They all could have taken on Dio easily. But Joaquín knew why they had to. _We know absolutely nothing about his Stand_ , he thought. _It's dangerous going against a Stand we know nothing about. We're no closer to understanding it than we were before… They're right… Had we stood behind and tried to blindly fight him, we wouldn't be alive… There's got to be a way to find out…_

And they needed to do it fast. Out in the distance, the last rays of sunlight were setting in the west. The orange sky was slowly fading to deep dark blue. "We're running out of time," he said, wishing more than anything for the opposite. "Once that sun completely sets, we'll be at that _cabrón's_ mercy…"

"What're you trying to say," asked Jean Pierre harshly. "That we wait for tomorrow's sunrise..? I'm not going to retreat until then! I'm telling you right now, Joaquín, I'm not going to run away anymore!"

"I know you're not." He went to the fallen Frenchman and helped him stand. "And I'm not going to either. We can't wait for tomorrow. By then, we'll have already failed to save my mom. I won't stand for that. None of us will. But we need to change our plans. Taking him head on won't work. It'll be like mountain climbing without knowing the route, and getting lost trying to find the top. We'd be fucked in no time."

" _Niisan_ ," asked Joutarou calmly. " _What do you suggest?_ "

"Well, Dio's going to take advantage of the night to pick us off before sunrise. During that time, we need to find a chance to expose his Stand's true ability… I know it's nuts, but I suggest we split into two groups again."

"Again," asked Della, more worried than the others. "But… if we do that-"

"If we do that," he interrupted angrily, "then we'll have a better chance to figure out his ability! One group can let Dio chase them while the other will be chases _him_. I know that sounds risky, but it's our best bet right now! Running away isn't an option anymore! Not after what happened! Mohamed and Iggy gave their lives so we can keep up the fight, not to run!"

She approached him and rested her hand on his arm. Immediately, his nerves calmed. It was always thanks to her that he could relax, even in the tensest moments. "Joaquín Trejo," she whispered. It felt odd for her calling him by his full name. "I understand. We all do. I don't want to run either. I want to see this through to the end, too. And I'll take whatever risk needs to be taken. Its what our friends would have wanted."

She then turned to Joseph, his face a mix of hesitation and worry. "Mr. Joestar, I'm with Joaquín on this. I can't think of a better plan. We can't hide and wait for the sun to finish him. We gotta do it ourselves, while trying to figure out how to beat his Stand."

The old man sighed and shook his head."Your method of thinking is a dangerous one," he pointed out solemnly. But then he looked back up at his grandson and smirked. "But if you didn't, then I couldn't exactly call you a Joestar, can I? I'm in.

" _As am I_ ," said Noriaki. Joutarou nodded in agreement.

"And I'll fight too," announced Jean Pierre. "I won't rest until I have his head!"

"Okay then," said Joaquín, hie eyes blazing once more. "Well… Here's how I see things. The first person Dio would be going after would be _Abuelito_. It's safe to say that h should be the one being chased. Noriaki, I want you with him as backup. Do what you can to find out his powers. The rest of you, go after Dio. Don't get too close unless you have to. If anything, Della, use All My Love and fire some bubbles at him"

"Wait, what about you," she asked.

"I'm staying behind and sneaking back in." They all gave looked as if he lost his mind. "I know, I know. But… I figured that if I looked in there, I might be able to find something on Dio. A hint, anything about The World's power. It's worth a shot. A man like him is bound to make a mistake somewhere… Look, don't worry about me, guys. I have _hamon_ and Preciosa with me. Draw Dio out to the city. I'll join everyone later.

"Jojo… Please be careful."

He smiled and gently kissed her for a moment. "You too. Everyone. Now let's split. It's time."

~+JO*JO+~

"... They… escaped…

"Was that any surprise? Your Stand is an extremely powerful one. On top of that, you exude the foulest of evil wherever you go. They were smart not to stay and fight.

"Indeed… But that doesn't matter now… Night has fallen… The Joestars may have escaped my mansion, but they will never escape Dio… Tonight, I will finally end my feud with them once and for all… The way to heaven is clear… With them eliminated, I can finally set my plans in motion. I _will_ achieve heaven… And they… will have no part in it…

"..."

"I will take my leave…

"... Lennox… Take my diary with you… Keep it safe… I shall return…

"... And if you don't?"

"... Has death ever stopped me..? Whether I, Dio, die or not, my plans will continue… The world will continue to feel my presence… Worry not for me, Lennox… In the end, I have always come out victorious… Always…

"... There's no changing your mind, is there..?"

"... Heh… Forgive me… But you of all people should know that I've come too far to go back on it all… I was, after all, born in darkness…It's who I've always been… Nothing can ever change that… Not even your holy heart…"

"... A pity… I had hoped you would have by now…"

"We've taken different paths in life… I'm sorry mine did not follow what you had hoped for me…"

"..."

"... Farewell, Lennox… Despite everything… It has been a pleasure to see you again after all this time…"

"... Agreed… Goodbye… Dio Brando…"

~+JO*JO+~

The sky was dark over Cairo. While the stars shined bright in the cloudless heavens, the orange glow of the city below was stronger. It was a beautiful historic city teeming with life and many a story. It might not have been much, but Joaquín came to appreciate how wonderful it looked. He was reminded of New York by how it looked, only far older. Were he not on a dangerous mission, he would gladly step out into the streets and visit every place he could.

But he was. And right now, he was in an alleyway, out off sight from everyone. Earlier, the he and the others had split up and ran to the city. His plan was to wait for Dio to leave the mansion so that he may go back in. While the others would try to force him to reveal his Stand's power, Joaquín was going to search for it on his own. He was certain that the madman had left some kind of hint as to what his power may be.

 _Just gotta wait for him to leave_ , he thought, glancing out the alley to the silhouette of the mansion in the distance. Sure enough, he had seen him. A humanoid figure, caped and glaring down into the city, stood upon the roof of the manor's tower. With the moon glowing behind him, he looked almost like a fearsome beast, ready to lay waste to the land below. The shadow of Dio stood there for a moment before jumping off and into the streets of Cairo.

Seeing his chance, he snuck his way back, making sure not to be caught. With its master gone, the building had a somber, somewhat regal feel to it. This mansion more than likely belonged to someone very rich back then. He wondered how it could have been forgotten before the vampire acquired it. But he didn't linger on it, walking straight back into the deep darkness he had escaped.

Being unable to see where he was going, he focused his breathing and surrounded his body in _hamon_. It's light was bright enough to illuminate the way. But now that he could see, he came upon a tiny snag in his plan. If he were to find where Dio could have left behind something about his Stand, where would he even look? The tower he had ran from? Unlikely There was nothing up there besides a suffering Nimrod. Another room? How many were there here? He didn't know where to look.

But as he mulled over where to begin his search, he saw someone slowly making their way down the stairs leading to the dreaded second floor. It was a woman, pale and wearing a flowing white gown. Her long. blonde hair was neatly brushed, framing her beautiful, youthful face. In her hands were a book and a candle, lighting her in the dark. When she looked up at him, he noticed just how much sadness her soft brown eyes held: way too much.

"I passed by your dog," she said softly, sounding tired and melancholy. She sounded British, just like Dio. But unlike him, she sounded formal and polite rather than condescending and uncaring. "I understand your loss perfectly, Joaquín Trejo. Don't worry. I did not touch him."

"Who.. are you," he asked, his _hamon_ fading. "Are you a Stand user?

"Yes. And a vampire. However, you needn't worry. My Stand and I hold no strength for battle. Likewise, I hold no bloodlust. I am simply a woman Dio used to aid in his plans. But I fear that may all come to an end soon. Now, what brings you back here?"

"I…" He was stunned. A Stand user _and_ an vampire who didn't want to fight or drain his blood? It was very strange. And yet, despite knowing he shouldn't, not even for someone like her, he couldn't help but drop his guard. Her presence, after everything that he had gone through, felt comforting and welcome. He could tell she had a kind heart, even for a vampire. Somehow… it was almost familiar…

Shaking his head, he cleared his thoughts and said, "I… I came back because, well… We're trying to fight Dio… And we know nothing about his powers. My friends and family are going after him to find out. And I'm here to do the same… Unless you know?"

"Funnily enough, close as I was to him, I do not. I wish you luck in your search. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must put this book away in the library."

"Wait, library?" He knew that most fancy homes such as this would have a study of sorts, but it never crossed his mind that this mansion would have one. "Um, may I join you? He's probably left something there, so I'm just gonna go look." He joined her as she walked through a pair of doors and into another art gallery. Unlike the one above, this one was filled with large, extravagant paintings the likes he had never seen before. "Were these all here before?"

"No," she answered dryly. "These were acquisitioned by Dio. All the riches he had amassed were taken from the tombs of Egypt and all across the world. When you're able to influence anyone so easily, you're able to obtain whatever your heart desires. Do you want one?"

He shook his head, disgusted by the man's thievery. "I want to earn my riches than to take them… Anyway, you only answered half my question earlier. Who are you?"

"Lennox. At least, that was the name Dio gave me. I do have a name, but I had hid it from the others for so long that I've grown attached to it. He restored me through vampiric means, despite being deceased for so long. To this day, I never understood why. At first, he said it was to serve as an insult to 'him'… But over time, I believed he wanted a familiar face to talk to, even if he knows I despise him greatly."

Joaquín thought for a moment as to what she said before his eyes lit up in realization. "Wait… You knew him personally?"

"In a way. We lived in the same era. We only ever met twice, once as children, and once as adults. I was convinced, even before he cast away his humanity, that this man was a monster. And all the tales I heard after the fact showed me just how dark his heart was. It's sad, really. I had hoped that after all this time, he would become a noble person… But there's nothing noble about him. All I see is an immutable demon. Dio Brando could never be saved."

"Dio… Brando?"

She nodded. "It was his name, before he returned. He told me after my resurrection that he cast aside his other identities. No longer was he Dio Brando or, more correctly, Dio Joestar. He was simply DIO, all capitals. That man had lost his mind and reason long ago, but he was content with being himself."

"He's a monster…"

"He is." They soon came to another set of doors and went through. Inside was a rather dusty-looking library filled with rows upon rows of books. Several chairs were laid about for whoever wanted to relax and read inside. "I hate him. I hate everything about him. But I couldn't… wouldn't… hurt him. Somehow, without any hypnosis, he had my respect… and I had his… So much so that he trusted me with my own Stand, Goddess Nut."

At the mention of her Stand, he became curious. Not cautious or ready to strike, but curious. He wanted to see what it was. Lennox did not need to be prompted, for she held out her hands and summoned it. It was a simple globe the size of a basket ball, bright blue and glowing softly. The continents were all white. There were several small brighter dots on them that pulsed, and they were all suspiciously in places Joaquín had been to. Two of them were together in Singapore, he noticed.

"With my Stand," she began, "I am able to send anyone to any location in the world. Of course, this is a one-way ordeal. I can send them, but I cannot retrieve them. Luckily, there is a small workaround to that. Whosoever is transported by me is tagged with a small star on their left perlicue." When she noticed his confused look, she clarified. "The space between your index finger and thumb."

"That's what it's called?"

"Yes. Now, this tag allows me to track the life force of those I sent away. It also serves as a bridge of communication between myself and them. It's how I have been able to report to DIO, or have one sent to him. For example…" She touched one of the glowing spots and speaks clearer. "Rubber Soul, it is Lennox. How are you faring?"

To is amazement he heard the slightly pained voice of one of his past foes. "F-Fine," he groaned. "I have to stay here for another month, but I'm fine…"

"Good. I wish you a safe and swift recovery, then." She then let go and gave Joaquín a warm smile. "Interesting, isn't it?"

"I'm actually impressed," he admitted. "And it explains how they all knew where we were."

"That's all due to DIO's link with the Joestars. And a second Stand."

"A second-" That didn't make sense at all. Mohamed had told them that everyone can have just one Stand. Perhaps a colony-based Stand, but always just one. "How would he-"

Lennox dispelled her Stand and took a seat, setting the candle down. The book stood in her hands. "It belongs to the man whose body he stole, I suppose. In theory, it is exactly like your grandfather's Hermit Purple. It is able to take spiritual photographs. That was how he could figure out where you would be and when."

"I see… Makes sense, I guess…"

"Indeed…" She then gasped softly. "Oh dear, I'm sorry. I distracted you. You said you were looking for the secret to his power?"

He did. And without another word, he began scouring the library, looking through whatever books he could find. He searched for all the ones without titles and flitted through their pages, but he found no answers. Preciosa joined him in the search and used his speed and incredible eyesight to sped up his search. All the worthless books were either put back or tossed carelessly to the floor.

" _Nada, nada, nada_ ," he muttered. "I can't find anything… But if he did keep his secret somewhere, it had to be hidden well… Like maybe some written note or something…"

"Well, the only thing I've ever seen DIO write in was this diary," said Lennox, patting the book she was holding.

"He- Wait, diary?!"

"Yes."

He ran up to her and grabbed it from her hands. "Why didn't you say so?! He's gotta have something in here!"

"You never asked." Blunt as that answer was, she was still polite. "He told me to keep it safe. However, if you wish to read it, and if you believe it will help you defeat DIO, you're more than welcome. I won't stop you."

It was an old, brown, leather-bound book, and it was rather light. Just looking at it filled him with a slight tinge of trepidation. This was the diary of the man known as DIO. What could a man who has spent over a century alive (most of it underwater) possibly write down? What secrets had he to tell? There were so many questions, but the only one that mattered was what his Stand was capable of. That is, if he was foolish enough to write about it.

He silently opened the book and began to read. There wasn't much to begin with. DIO led a poor life with a saint of a mother and a drunk lowlife of a father. He loved her but detested her charitable, giving nature. And he loathed but respected his father's greedy, taking nature. Despite living in the slums of England in the 19th century, his mother never stopped giving to others when they themselves were just as impoverished.

Naturally, she became a laughingstock to the public. Even his father thought little of his wife, abusing and belittling her for her goodwill. She had been overworked to death, though her son found little pity. He didn't think she would ever get to heaven.

Which brought up something interesting about this start to the diary. Heaven. It was mentioned multiple times, how DIO needed to be righteous to reach it, how his mother would always mentioned it. Joaquín wondered if he thought, in that twisted dark mind of his, that he would ever go there. But he never will. There was only one place he would end up. He'll make sure he goes _there_ instead.

He turned to the next entry, which read as thus:

 _There might be a way to reach heaven._

 _I started thinking as such at some point._

 _At the very least, I didn't think about it as a young child… And the heaven I speak of may not be the same heaven my mother always referred to. But as I said, I started to think as such at some point._

 _When I say 'at some point', while I'm vague as to the time it occurred, it is not particularly due to my uncertainty of when it did. Nothing of the sort… Rather, I know quite clearly, with great confidence, when that moment was._

 _It was when that witch, Lady Enya, presented to me the items simply known as the "Bow and Arrow" that I had attained my Stand, "The World." ... To be precise, it was when my Stand ability "The World" had awoken._

 _"The ability to control time."_

He read no further. The words he had seen left him in complete shock, enough for him to drop the diary. There it was at last. The answer to how non-Stand users attained one of their own. How DIO attained one. What The World's power was. It was all there in black and white. He used this bow and arrow to attain what might be the world's most powerful and dangerous Stand. And it's secret: it had control over time. He knew what that meant.

"The World can stop time," he whispered. "My god… It all makes sense… Our encounter with him… We were right… No super speed or hypnosis, no illusions… It was time… He's been using it to fuck with us… And… " As soon as this revelation hit, he was hit with another one. A darker one. "And the others are going after him… They don't know… They're gonna try to find out and end up… Oh god, what have I done?!"

"What exactly did you do," she asked, showing some worry.

"I split everyone up! One group's going after him an the other is luring him! They don't know! They're heading to their deaths! Don't you see?! If DIO stops time without any of us knowing, we'll have no means to counter his attack whether we know his ability or not! There's no way we can beat him!"

Lennox had remained calm during his panic. As he tried wrapping his mind abut what they could do, she rose from her seat and hugged him. It was the kind of hug a mother would give to soothe their child. And it had the slow effect of calming his nerves. The worry was still there, but his panic was gone.

"You need to have a clear head," she whispered. "If you head into battle as you are now, then you will surely fall… But you must have faith, Joaquín. You are a Joestar. No matter who or what they face, they always emerge victorious. Surely you will overcome DIO and his ability. You must believe in your abilities and your own courage."

"I.. I need to," he whispered.

"Of course. Every Joestar I've ever known believed in their courage. And do you know what drove their courage? Love. For their family, friends, beloved… That is what you fight for, right?"

"Yes…"

"So when you face DIO, or anyone, really, believe in them, as they do for you. With that courage, you can take the impossible… His ability to stop time may be this, but you _can_ defeat him… I may not know you, but I believe in you…"

Her words, full of comfort and hope, gave him strength. She was right. It was like he had told DIO earlier, he was a Trejo _and_ a Joestar. They were some of the most courageous men out there. And if anyone could take down that vampire, no matter what he threw at them, it was them. It was _him_. Fueled by her encouragement, he let go of her and smiled at her. "Thank you, Lennox."

"You're welcome," she aid with a nod. "Now go. Make haste and seek out your friends. Do nothing rash. And defeat DIO once and for all."

"I will." But as he tried to leave, she stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Not yet. I must ask a small favor from you."

"Huh? Uh, can it wait until after-"

"No," she interrupted. "As much as I believe in you all, there's no certainty that you will survive. Which is why I have to ask this now… That glow you had around your body. That was _hamon_ , wasn't it?"

"Yes."

Lennox looked at him thoughtfully for a moment and then sighed. "As I've said, I was reborn thanks to him. But… I had already lived my life. I left knowing that my family's future would be a bright and fruitful one. My time had long since passed. And yet… I was brought back by the man I despised all my life in a world I barely recognize… I do not belong here… With DIO leaving, I have no other purpose being here…"

"So… you want me to use my _hamon_ and send you on your way," he guessed, to which she nodded. For someone like her, a vampire who just wanted to return to the peace that was death, he didn't find it odd at all. It was the least he could do, given how kind and helpful she was. And so, after taking a breath to focus his energy, he tapped her collarbone with his glowing fingers and filled her with the light he could produce.

The effect was unlike what happened with Vanilla Ice. She did not break apart completely as he did, but her body slowly started to crack and glow from the _hamon_ destroying her body. And despite what pain she should be feeling, she was smiling. Perhaps it was the first real smile she made since her revival.

"I remember this," she said gently, her eyes closed and looking to be at peace. "This sensation… I've felt it before… It doesn't hurt… It never did… This energy inside me… Your's is the same as his… Now I can finally return to him… "

 _Him_ , he asked in his mind before voiced his curiosity. "Who're you talking about?"

And then she looked back at him. A lone tear of happiness streaked down her cheek. "Your great-great-grandfather… My husband… Jonathan… Joestar…" She places a hand to his cheek, her loving eyes locking with his shocked-filled ones. "You… look just like.. him…"

With those last words, her body finally crumbled into dust. She was able to return to the afterlife happily. And Joaquín, after wiping hie teary eyes, ran out of the library and mansion, finally heading off for the great battle that awaited. While his worry for his friends was still there, his confidence in them and the courage that burned within made his mind clear. He had that woman to thank for that, as well as for helping him discover the secret to DIO's secret.

 _Good-bye… And thank you… Erina Joestar…_

* * *

STAND TIME

STAND USER: LENNOX/ERINA JOESTAR (レノックス/エリナ・ジョースター)

STAND: GODDESS NUT (ニュート女神)

POWER: E, SPEED: E, RANGE: A, DURABILITY: A, PRECISION: A, POTENTIAL: C

ABILITIES: Nut's primary ability is transportation. It can teleport a person to any location in the world the user chooses on its globe-like body. However, they cannot be brought back or teleported anywhere else unless they are within it's its line of sight. Those who are transported by it are left with a small, out-of-sight tag that allows the user to monitor their vitals and communicate with them. These tags appear all over the map as dots, showing who is where at any given moment. These dots disappear only when those tagged return to the Stand or die.

Wow... Okay, quite a bit to unpack here. First, the interaction between Joaquin and Dio is an homage to Castlevania: Symphony of the Night. I enjoyed working on this. It felt so fitting. Now, as for the last part of the chapter... At first, I wasn't planning on Lennox being Erina at all. It was meant to be just some other Stand user who had the same kind of ability, but elderly and more focused on fate and destiny. But I felt that wouldn't have much of an impact, and would have dragged this chapter more. So I made her Erina. It feels like something Dio would do, just to spite Jonathan one last time. Anyway, with all that, I'm glad y'all enjoy this story. It's almost over, though. :)


	40. Holy Diver

Something's telling me I should have added the last bit of the last chapter to the start of this chapter. Because HOLY SHIT, this chapter is considerably shorter than everything else lately. Oh well. This is why there's the definite version in the future that'll even everything out. In the meantime, I hope the chapter's length doesn't make it any less enjoyable. Especially since we're finally in the endgame of the series. :)

* * *

Ch. 40  
Holy Diver

JANUARY 16TH, 1989  
16:58  
CAIRO, EGYPT

 _Where are they?_

The problem with Joaquín's plan of everyone splitting up is that he gave no clear directions for them to go. DIO was supposed to be chasing after Joseph while the others hunt for him. But where they all were, he had no clue. He had been running though the streets in an effort to locate them, but he just couldn't find them. _How am I supposed to find them, especially if they're all fleeing?_

Turning down one street, he found a burly, suited man slumped against the wall of some store. He was hissing and panting in pain, and one of his arms was completely twisted and broken. "Hey," Joaquín called as he ran up to him. "What happened? Who did this to you? Where did he go?"

The man could barely control his ragged breathing as he groaned, "Some foreigner… yellow outfit… He took… Senator Wilson Phillip's car…" With his good arm, he pointed where the madman ran off to. "That… That way…"

"Was anyone else following him?" He shook his head. "Okay. Give me a second here..." He took the twisted arm and focused his _hamon._ As his energy poured into him, his bones began to crack and mend themselves back into place. Much to the man's surprise, his arm had untwisted and healed.

"H-hey, it's… it's all better..!" He looked up at him incredulously. "What _was_ that..?"

"Long story," he said shortly. "You have to get out of here. Cairo's about to become a battlefield. Warn whoever you can about who you just met. I'm going after him." He ran off in the direction he was given, leaving the healed man behind. If DIO was actually driving, taking into considering how he was, he would leave at least some destruction in his wake. Especially if he was already engaging with the others.

He soon came upon another street that proved he was on the right track. However, there was no destruction. There was only death. Bodies were strewn all over the sidewalk, bloodied and unmoving. They had been run over. But why? Judging by the congested traffic trying vainly to speed away from the carnage, it was obvious the deranged vampire had forgone waiting and drove through a crowd of innocent citizens.

 _Sick_ , he thought. _This is just sickening… He doesn't care who's in the way, so long as he gets to_ Abuelito _..._ He followed the trail, running as fast as he could to find his target. Or, at the very least, his friends. They still needed to be warned about that man's horrifying ability. It was the least he could do, even if _he_ didn't know how to properly counter it.

As the death around him turned into another street, so did he. Further down the road, he could make out two people on motorbikes speeding away. From where he stood, he recognized the trailing, navy blue _gakuran_ on one bike and the bushy brunette tail on the other. "GUYS, WAIT," he shouted, using his Stand to bounce and propel him towards them. The call must have reached them, for they stopped just in time to look behind them and see him jumping their way.

"Jojo," exclaimed Della, just as her boyfriend landed a few feet away and ran up to them. "We're trying to chase DIO and the others! What did you find?"

"The answers to everything," he answered when he finally caught up. "The Stands... They're awakened by some bow and arrow. They're the reason non-Stand users have been able to get one. Somehow, DIO has them. He's been using them to make his minions. And it's how he got The World."

Of the three, Jean Pierre looked the most surprised. This piece of information was the most important to him. He had been searching for what brought about the sudden Stand outbreak in Europe, and now he knew. It all traced back to the man they were hunting. But he knew that for him, there was more to the mystery.

"Wait a minute, what does DIO have to do with what's going on in Europe?"

"We can worry about that later," interrupted Joutarou, turning to his brother. " _What about The World's ability? I assume you found out, right?_ "

He nodded and swallowed, ready to pass on the weight of his knowledge to them. "The World can stop time." And sure enough, they all looked shocked. Even his brother, whose eyes almost widened. "That's how he's been messing with us. That's the power every one of his minions who knew feared."

"Oh my god," whispered Della. "How are we going to fight that…"

"I don't know… Our best bet is to strike before he has a chance to activate his time stop. But, when can we do it? Will we have enough time to get him? We won't know when we'll be attacked until it's too late… I just don't know…"

" _We'll figure it out_ ," said Joutarou quietly. " _With everything we've gone through, we'll find a way to strike back. Nothing's impossible for any of us._ "

"No it's not… But… as much as I know you all don't want to, I'd like for you guys to keep your distance… DIO's completely unpredictable and his ability is extremely 's not to say I'm gonna stop you guys from fighting too. If any opportunity arises at all, strike him down. Don't rush in without a plan, and don't do anything rash. I'll join you guys in trying to find him, but once I spot him, I'm going on my own. I'll be careful. I promise."

They all nodded, knowing that they couldn't stop him either. He sat behind his brother and pointed ahead of them to go. The two bikes revved roared down the street, both following what little devastation they could find to track the vampire down. There were mercifully no more dead bodies, but the further they rode, the more signs they found that he had drove past. A light pole had been bent, some signposts were broken apart, and littering the road were silver, broken car pieces.

 _It looks like there's been a fight here_ , Joaquín thought. _Which means either DIO found them or the other way around… Damnit,_ Abuelito _, I'm sorry… Please be okay…_

They eventually came upon a wreckage of sorts between two vehicles. One was a green pick-up truck, crashed right into a building. The other was a fancy silver car, parked nearby and torn up, which explained the pieces strewn about behind them. It looked recent too, given the smoke issuing of the truck. Everyone stopped near the wreckage and dismounted to investigate. Nobody was inside, except for a squat, bloody man in a black suit.

"Who the hell is this," asked Jean Pierre, pulling him out and checking his pulse. "… He's already dead…"

"Judging by the hole in the back window," pointed out Joutarou, "it looks like he was thrown in."

"He's a senator," Joaquín answered. "Wilson Phillips. Some guy told me DIO stole his car. There's no doubting this is him."

" _Nobody else is here… Where could they have gone?_ "

" _If I had to guess…_ " He looked above to the rooftops. If they had to escape quickly, they must have fled above. "I'm gonna go look. Everyone, keep your distance." They all nodded as he summoned Preciosa again and bounded high onto the nearest rooftop, getting as high as he could to scope out the city around him. A small part of him felt foolish for not doing this before. Had he done so, they would have found DIO's mansion earlier.

 _Better late than never, I guess… Still, we'd all still be going through this, whether we found it days ago or not…_ After a few seconds, he saw them. On one side of the city, closer than he thought, was Joseph jumping from building to building. On another was Noriaki, standing above a steel spire. Perhaps he was searching for the man hunting them. He didn't see DIO, but he bounded his way through the buildings, getting closer.

Just as he was a few feet away from his friend, he caught a glimpse of gold descending onto one of the other rooftops. It was DIO. He made sure to keep himself as hidden as he could, not taking his sights off him. Of course, as he beheld the man, he saw something bizarre happen. The area right in front of the vampire burst with a barrage of emeralds shooting straight for him. He deflected them all and jumped away from his perch.

And it happened again. This time, he didn't land, and yet he was still shot by the Emerald Splash from behind. All of them were kicked away, sent straight into one of the nearby structures and damaging it. _What the hell's happening? I can't see Noriaki's Stand anywhere… Did he hide it or something? How's he able to fire at that bastard from out of nowhere? It's almost like he just tripped some wire and activated-_

His thoughts halted as soon as this came to mind. Through Preciosa's eyes, he looked around where DIO was and found his answer. He was surrounded by silvery-green wires, all connected and keeping him from moving anymore without touching them. And the more he saw the wires, the larger he noticed it was. It was a gigantic, inescapable web, all a part of Hierophant Green. He was its spider, and DIO was his fly.

" _That's right, DIO_ ," called out the Stand's user, pointing directly at his target. " _Whatever touched my Hierophant's barrier gets fired upon! And already, it's twenty meters around you! It can detect yours and The World's movements!_ "

He couldn't believe how intricate his trap was. In any other situation, it would have been perfect. However, his prey could stop time. There was a chance that he could maneuver through the barrier easily. And yet, there was a chance it could work. Joaquín wouldn't dare interfere lest something horrible happen.

From where DIO now stood, he lowed his foot from one of the nearby wires and chuckled. "Kakyouin," he heard him calmly call out. "Your first name is Noriaki, correct..? How old are you now..?"

" _What_ ," asked a confused Noriaki.

"What I'm saying is that you musn't hasten your death…"

For a moment, he hesitated. " _... You don't seem to understand the situation you're in, DIO… It doesn't matter what The World's power is, you can't move a single inch from where you stand..!_ "

"Do you really think so?,"

" _Just try it_ ," he threatened.

"Are you still frightened, Kakyouin? Just like you were last year?"

This seemed to offend Noriaki, who nearly screamed, " _Ridiculous! While I might have given in to nauseating fear back then, that's no longer the case!_ "

He couldn't see DIO's face from there, but he guessed he was still amused judging by his tone. There was also that sickeningly sweet endearment in his words when he spoke to him and Jean Pierre earlier. "Kakyouin… you are a prudent and excellent Stand user… So full of youth and a passion for everything that is so hard to replace… To sacrifice your life as that old man Joestar's shield… How can you see any value in that?"

" _I'm not fighting just for the Joestars… They may be the ones that gave me a new lease on life… But I'm doing this to reclaim my honor from the indignity I suffered through because of you... I fight for myself!_ "

The vampire held his hand out to him. "It's not too late for you… Pledge to me once again, my old friend… What do you say..?"

" _Here's my answer!_ " The wires all around them glowed. " _Take this, DIO! At a radius of twenty meters! EMERALD SPLAAASH!_ " The gemstones fired from everywhere straight for their target. But he didn't move. He made no sign that he was going to try to avoid it or counterattack. Joaquín had a feeling as to what he would do now.

"How foolish," DIO taunted. "You must understand… The World's true ability… is exactly that! The ability to control the world itself! THE WORLD!" In a flash, his fearsome Stand was summoned. And in that moment, he activated his time stop. Joaquín didn't sense it or know how long it lasted, but he could see the results of what happened.

The Emerald Splashs gems crashed into one another.

The barrier was torn apart.

DIO had disappeared from that very spot.

And Noriaki was blown away from his perch, flying straight into a water tower. The crashing boom from the impact echoed into the night, and the weight of what happened pierced his heart.

"NOOO," he screamed.

"KAKYOIIIN," screamed Joseph in the distance.

The trap had failed. And he had paid the price with his life. He was killed, he knew he was. But Joaquín, despite wanting to go after DIO, needed to see him. The boy didn't need to die without someone there for him. Foregoing the vampire, he leaped from rooftop to roof top until he finally came to him. Noriaki was bloodied and limp against the now broken and leaking water tank. There was a hole right through his stomach. Seeing him like this brought tears to his eyes.

" _Noriaki, no_ ," he whispered, climbing up to meet him.

He didn't look at him, his eyes slowly losing life in them. " _What… What happened_ ," he spoke slowly, pained and struggling to speak. " _He… damaged me..? I… I can't move… Can barely speak…_ "

" _Noriaki, please don't move… Don't… I'm…_ " He could barely hold himself together, a sob escaping him. " _I'm so sorry..! I shouldn't have split us up..! I should have come sooner..! This is all my fault..!_ "

The boy smiled weakly. " _Don't… beat yourself up… You… didn't know… None of us… would have known… I'm… I'm okay… with this… My life… might have been… short… but… thanks to you all… I can… die… knowing I… didn't give in… to DIO… I might not… have beaten him… but… I lived my life… how I saw it… with no regrets… Tell me… You… figured it out… right..? His power..?_ "

He nodded. " _I did… He stopped time… That's The World's ability…_ "

Noriaki stood silent. For a moment, he thought he had passed. But the youth slowly raised his head and smiled on. His Hierophant Green's web was slowly disintegrating before their eyes. " _I had wondered… My barrier… can detect movements… DIO… tore through it… all at once… without any… lapse in time… Now… Now I know… It all makes sense… I… I fell for it…_

"… _Hey… Joaquín… It's… 5:15… It's midnight… in Japan… right..?_ "

" _Y-Yes,_ " he answered, his emotional pain as great as his friend's physical one.

" _I wonder… if my mother… and father… are asleep now… Heh… I'm sorry they… had to worry… If you see them… tell them… what happened here…_ " Slowly fading into view was Hierophant Green, his hands cupped and forming water between them.

" _N-Noriaki, what're you doing_ ," asked Joaquín, who knew what this would lead to.

" _Look… up there…_ " And he did. His grandfather was cornered by DIO, who he couldn't hear but could tell that he was showing off his neck to him. Whether he still had the scar from attaching himself to Jonathan or not, he didn't know. " _I have… to warn… Joestar-san… You might… not reach him… in time…_ " His Stand faltered, making him cough up blood. He could barely hold his Stand together. But that would not stop him from trying again.

And just as DIO was about to strike, Noriaki succeeded. He fired another stream of gemstones, which crashed straight into one of the faces of the nearby clock tower. It distracted their foe enough to stop him, he and his prey looking between the clock and the Stand who fired it. But Hierophant Green didn't stay out for long. Just like the trap he had set, he slowly dissolved into nothingness, having expended the last of his energy.

" _T-That was…. my final… Emerald… Splash_ ," whispered Noriaki, barely able to speak anymore. He was already fading. " _I hope… he understands…_ " His eyes, already losing their light, turned to Joaquín. He offered him one last smile. " _Joaquín… Goodbye… Thank you… all of you… for being… my… friends…_ " And then, his head drooped. What little breathing he did stopped.

Kakyouin Noriaki was dead.

Between the deaths of Mohamed and Iggy, this one hurt him the most. He was all alone most of his life: no friends, nobody who could understand him or his Stand. Not even his family. He had told them all this one day, as if wondering if they understood. But they all did, especially Joutarou, who almost felt the same. They became his friends, and it brought him happiness every day they were near. Being with them on this journey must have been the first time in his life he felt truly happy.

But his happiness, his youth, his future, was short lived. The very man who had taken advantage of his loneliness and dragged him into darkness robbed him of his life. He did not deserve this fate. None of them did. And no matter what anyone said about the circumstances, Joaquín knew it was partly his fault. Had he not split them up, he would have had a chance to survive. The guilt would be something he'd live with for the rest of his life.

He wanted to stay here and grieve, but he knew he couldn't. There was still the matter of the man who killed the boy. At this moment, from what he saw, he was bound by Hermit Purple's thorns. After wiping his eyes, he saluted to his friend and shakily whispered, " _Goodbye Noriaki. I'll make sure we bring you back home, too._ " He then ran and leaped off the building with his Stand, flying through the air and immediately landing beside Joseph.

"Joaquín," he explained. "What're you-"

He ignored and ran past his grandfather, straight towards the trapped DIO. Just as his Preciosa was about to strike him, he broke free of his bonds and instantly summoned his Stand.

"How useless" he laughed as The World's fist connected with the other. The impact of the punches managed to stop Joaquín and shake him to his core. He had never felt such power in a Stand before. "Your Stands are pitiful before the might of my own! What makes you think for one second you have a chance against me?!"

His shock wore off immediately as The World began its attack. Preciosa dodged what he could, meeting his blows with some of his own. "You already know the answer to that, you murderous piece of shit," Joaquín growled. "I'm a Joestar! No matter how strong you are, I won't rest until I defeat you!"

"I love your tenacity… However!" His Stand grabbed the other's fist, nearly crushing it in its hold. "It's not your turn yet, boy. I'll deal with you _after_ I've eliminated your grandfather… Now begone!"

He and Preciosa were flung away like garbage and sent soaring over the city. He didn't fly too far, however, as a large bubble encased and stopped his flight. Right below, Della, All My Love, and the others made their way towards him. "Jojo," she called out. "Hold on, let me get you down!" Her Stand then shot out several bubbles, below him, creating some steps for Joaquín to use before popping the one that held him.

"Thanks, Della," he said as he descended. The moment he came down, he wasted no time in relaying the horrible news. "He killed Noriaki."

"What," exclaimed Jean Pierre in disbelief.

"No," Della whispered, her eyes wide and already filling with tears. "No… Not him… Not Noraki…"

Joutarou said nothing, instead hiding his eyes. His brother knew why. His face barely ever showed it, but his eyes always told exactly how he felt. The youth didn't want him to see the pain his news was causing. There was no need, for he knew how deep a hole was forming in his heart. The others may have lost a friend, but he lost a best friend.

" _Niisan_ ," he muttered, trying to keep his composure.

" _Yeah_ ," Joaquín asked.

The younger of the Joestars still didn't look at him. " _Is there anything left?_ "

" _Yes._ "

" _... We'll gonna bring him back home, right?_ "

He nodded. " _Yeah… Him and Iggy… I promise… Keep your distance… I'm going back for_ Abuelito _again…_ "

"Give him hell, Joaquín," Jean Pierre encouraged. With a silent nod, he turned away and bounded along the rooftops again, hunting down DIO and Joseph. He found them within a few seconds, the old man swinging past buildings using Hermit Purple as a vine. The vampire gave chase, almost appearing to be flying. Just as he got closer, it happened again. The World had stopped time and made his master vanish. Joseph didn't notice he was gone until he turned around and saw his grandson.

"Joaquín," he called out, just as he landed before him. "Where did he go?"

The answer was right behind him, The World already poised to strike. "On your 6," he shouted. The old man turned as a golden fist flew at him, but it stopped short of connecting. The Stand floated back towards its master, arms crossed and somewhat stone-faced. "What's wrong, DIO? You thought I'd just sit back and wait for you to kill my _abuelito_?"

"Probably not," sneered Joseph. "You were so hellbent on trying to suck my blood earlier. So why didn't you hit me?"

The vampire tapped his forehead and said, " _Hamon_ has been continuously flowing through your body… You've been on your guard the entire time. Your Hermit Purple, flowing with _hamon_ , is wrapped around your body like a high-voltage wire… You're quite the tactician… you cunning old man…"

Joseph nodded and lowered his collar. His Stand was completely wrapped around his chest, shining with the power to to harm the immortal being. "Same to you… You saw it and were cautious enough not to inadvertently touch me. However.. I've discovered your Stand's trait… Even though you can stop time, it can't be for no more than a few seconds… Only three to four seconds, I take it… If it were any longer, then we'd all be dead back at the mansion… You shouldn't have come chasing us…"

DIO said nothing, but his lips did curl into a humored smile. He and his Stand approached. But the others stood their ground. "So, you discovered The World's secret," he pointed out. "I must praise you…"

"You have me to thank for that," growled Joaquín, Preciosa appearing beside him. "I found it out back at the mansion. That's how Noriaki was able to tell my _abuelito_. I would have told him myself, but who knew if I'd make it."

His eyebrow arched in curiosity. And when he spoke again, his amusement was replaced with cold suspicion."Back at the mansion… What do you mean by that… How would you have found out… From what I understand, you've spent almost the entire time at Vanilla Ice's mercy and in my presence… There was no way you could have figured it out on your own…"

"I went back and bumped into a friend of yours. And she happened to carry the answer in some shoddy little diary."

"You did what," he yelled.

"Yeah, right next to how you made several Stand users, and how you lived in poverty. Never would have thought that the great Dio Brando was nothing but an English slum dog." DIO's eye twitched, but he did not try to attack. "But that was never an excuse for your actions. From everything I've heard and read, you were born evil. And I will make you pay for everything, you monster. Not just for my friends and my mother… but for Erina…"

"Erina," asked a confused Joseph. "What do you mean?"

"I bumped into her when I went back… This motherfucker revived her as a vampire."

A shocked silence followed, the old man turning to their still-glaring foe. "You mean to tell me," he muttered, slowly raising his voice in time with his mounting anger, "that this monster… the same one who took my grandfather's body… insulted him further by bringing her back to life?!"

DIO did not look at him, but he did address him coldly. "You are correct… But she was treated fairly…"

"Because forcing her to be alive again and using her as a Stand user was fair, Joaquín butted in. "There's nothing you can say to make up for what you did."

"How dare you..?! She was supposed to be resting peacefully in a New York cemetery..! I helped lower her casket..! There was no reason for you to have disturbed her slumber like that, you fucking bastard! I'll kill you!"

The vampire's teeth bared into a sinister smile. "It doesn't matter what you've read or who I've revived...What good can all that do you? How can you possibly expect to defeat me, DIO?!"

"Like this," shouted Joseph. "Hermit Purple and _hamon_!"

" _Abuelito_ , wait," warned Joaquín. But his words didn't reach him, for Joseph shot out the glowing vines straight at the vampire. They weren't going to work.

"Tedious," shouted DIO. "You fail to understand I can attack you without getting touching by you _hamon_!" Beforethe vines could even reach it, The World punched away at a chimney jutting from the roof they all stood on. Its debris flew at the two and stuck them off the roof.

"Hang on, _Abuelito_ ," Joaquín yelled as grabbed his grandfather and used Preciosa to stick to the wall of the building. He grabbed onto them before they could crash into it and dropped down to the street. Several onlookers at a nearby open cafe gawked in confusion at the men who just landed from out of nowhere. " _Abuelito_ , are you okay?"

He nodded and wiped the bricks off his chest. "I'm fine… Damnit… I wasn't thinking… What he did to her… unforgivable…"

"I know… I'm pissed too… But I took care of it… She's resting in peace again…"

His anger stilled for a moment, letting him offer a grateful smile. "You're a good man, Joaquín… Thank you for going back there… And… You were right before… About using _hamon_ … It's too risky…"

"It's fine. His Stand's power isn't something we can take lightly… But we can beat him… We just have to work together and…" He trailed off when he heard the roar of an engine slow down to an idle puttering. Looking behind him, he saw his brother dismounting his motorbike and making his way towards him. But it was only him. The other were gone. " _Joutarou? Hey, where's Della and Jean Pierre?!_ "

He didn't say anything until he reached them. " _Don't worr_ y," he said calmly. " _Polnareff went back to the mansion. He didn't say why, though. Della's nearby, bus she's staying out of sight. I'm here to fight with you guys._ "

"You came right on time." As he said this, DIO descended a few feet from them. The bystanders did not move, his fearful presence rooting them to the spot. But it did not stir any fear in the Joestars. "The show's about to start…"

"Finally," muttered Joseph with a fire of determination in his tone. "We can pay him back for everything… For Granny Erina…"

" _For our friends_ ," Joutarou added.

"For Mom," Joaquín added as well. "And the countless lives affected because of him…" He then addressed and pointed straight at him. "You hear that? All of it! One hundred years we've all suffered! Not anymore! Our curse, our feud, it all ends tonight once and for all!"

DIO smiled, and in an instant, the entire cafe erupted into chaos. Its tables and patrons were knocked over. One of the women had a fork through her cheek, another had their nose burning. A few men were eating what looked like the remains of a torn-up cat. And right beside Joaquín came two sickening sounds of blades piercing flesh and grunts of pain. He saw both his brother and grandfather fall, stabbed in neck by dining knives.

" _ABUELITO_ ," he screamed. "JOUTAROU!" He couldn't do anything now, the two writhing in pain. They couldn't pull the blades out lest they bleed out worse than before.

" _How_ ," groaned Joutarou, gazing off in uncharacteristic disbelief. " _How… can he… be that strong…_ "

His grandfather, whose Hermit Purple was crumbling and flickering like a dying light bulb, reached out for his eldest grandson and pleaded in pain. "Run… Run… for it… Joa… quin… Stay… away…. from him… Keep… your distance… You have… You have to run… We can't… beat… him…" Both he and Joutarou lost consciousness, and the last of his Stand faded away into nothingness.

"That's two down," sneered DIO, pointing at his foe the minute he turned back to glare at him. "Next, Joaquín… is you..!"

Death was hanging in the air. The lights all around them burned like fire. And the immortal man who haunted him nearly every night singled him out to prey upon. Every nightmare he had for the past four years had become a reality, one he couldn't wake up from this time. But his hatred for the monster and the burning desire for justice for the fallen kept him there. He would see this nightmare to its end.

Everyone from the cafe had finally fled, leaving the two staring each other down. "This is how I've always envisioned it… Just you and I… Your friends have been taken care of…But I noticed two others are missing… Polnareff and Della… No doubt they're lurking around somewhere… Not that I care… You are all I care about… Your life is my ultimate obstacle… One I will enjoy taking… And once I end you… my dream… my goal… will be within my reach…"

"What exactly do you have planned," asked Joaquín sharply. "If not world domination, then what? You mentioned heaven in that book. Not God's heaven, but something else. What exactly do you mean?"

His smile faded for a moment, as did all the bloodlust he held for the Joestar. He then spoke to him as he would to a curious child. "I've dreamt of heaven for years, Joaquín... What it is, where it is, how to reach it… My mother, as you already know, has spoken to me about being able to go there… She may have meant God's kingdom, but she may have meant something else entirely… My thoughts lean towards the latter… What she spoke of was something else entirely…

"The future I seek isn't a physical place, but a psychological destination. A future we all could reach… One we could all prepare for... In being prepared, our despair would be snuffed out by peace of mind… I have found a way to reach it… This is my goal… World domination… an army… is _useless_ to me… All that matters now… is achieving heaven…"

 _Heaven_ , thought Joaquín. _A state of mind..? From what he makes it sound like, its like some utopia on Earth… But getting there… He's killed way too many people to reach it… His goal isn't a righteous one at all…_ "I don't care what this _heaven_ really is," he said dismissively, walking slowly and purposefully towards him. "All I care about is stopping you from achieving it… I told you… I'm ending this tonight…"

DIO's smile returned, as well as the murderous spark in his eyes. "Oh..? You're approaching me..? Rather than running away, you choose to approach me, DIO..? Your grandfather Joseph warned you to run away, and instead of heading his final words, you choose to ignore him..?

"I know…" Preciosa formed once more beside him, eyes burning as angry as his user. "But I can't beat you up unless I get closer…"

"Ho ho…" The World appeared as well. "Then get as close as you'd like…"

Both men approached one another, slowly closing the distance between them Neither broke eye contact. Neither dismissed their Stands. The pressure they exuded was unbreakable, mounting the closer they got to one another. Only when they were within range of one another that they stopped. Preciosa's fist shot straight towards his foe. But The World beat him to it, kicking his leg. The impact left a small hole in the sidewalk and a tear in the other user's jeans.

"Too slow," DIO teased. "The World is the ultimate Stand… Without stopping time, its speed and power are above that of your Preciosa."

"So it's the same type of Stand as mine, then… I had a feeling… Short range, but it's powerful and precise in movement…"

"Personally, I wanted to test out how much more Stand power The World has over you… Well, it doesn't look like I need to anymore…"

Joaquín scoffed. "You call that a test? Please… That was a love tap. You barely even scratched me." His kick actually hurt. While it broke nothing, the pain it left felt incredible. Of course, he wouldn't tell him that. "But you did just rip a good pair of $40 jeans."

DIO sighed in annoyance. "Why must you Joestars be such sore losers..?" But he retained his smile and scoffed nonetheless. "I guess I'll take you up on your foolish provocation and try a bit more." His Stand began to punch at his prey, who blocked every blow he could. Each one rocked both Stand and user, but they did not budge. When there was an opening, Preciosa delivered several swift kicks. All they did was snap a stop sign in half, the vampire jumping behind them.

"TOMA," shouted Preciosa, blocking his opponent's chop with his elbow. Two more punches aimed straight for his face. The first one missed, but the second nicked his cheek. DIO's sliced open as well. This distraction was all the frog-like Stand needed to unleash a barrage of punches. The World met him with his own, their fists clashing and stopping one another. In terms of strength, he was stronger. But it took more than strength to win this fight.

"What's wrong, Joaquín," mocked DIO. "Is that all the power you have?"

"No," he said with a smirk. "There's plenty more where that came from." His Stand began his assault again, punching as fast and hard as he could.

"Comparing our rushing speed… Very well, then…"

The two Stands flew at one another and wasted no more time. They unleashed their strongest, fastest punches, crashing into each other like two powerful storms. Gold against gold, good against evil. DIO's The World and Joaquín's Preciosa clashed with all their might. Egypt was but an afterthought. All that mattered to them was conquering the opponent standing before them.

"TOMATOMATOMA" roared Preciosa

"MUDAMUDAMUDA," roared The World in return.

The climactic battle between the two fated foes had finally begun.

~KAKYOUIN NORIAKI (1971-1989): RIP~

* * *

The OVA has quite a bit of material to add onto the story. Kakyoin's encounter with Dio in that series felt a lot more meaningful than the manga/anime, rather than just a simple "You fell for my trap!" moment. Now, for the ending. It was always gonna be Joaquin against Dio. To have used Jotaro as well would have been overkill. Plus, this is Dio we're talking about. He seems like the kind of guy who would single out a target and get rid of his backup. Anyway, look forward to the next part of the final battle!


End file.
